


As You're Told

by fanforfanatic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, BDSM, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Fingering, Kink Negotiation, Nipple Clamps, Professor Castiel, Sex, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, reader is a professor too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanforfanatic/pseuds/fanforfanatic
Summary: “They’re just toys,” Cas says.“So you’ve said.”“You want to try them?”You don’t say anything.“You want to try it?” He asks and tries to keep his voice as natural sounding as possible but you don’t miss the smallest of hitches.“What’s ‘it’?”“BDSM.”Or, you start dating Castiel, a famous physicist, when you get hired at the same university as him. A few months into the relationship, you explore dom/sub dynamics within your sex lives.





	1. Chapter 1

You’ve been reading the same three lines for at least three minutes when your phone chimes. You read the short paragraph one more time, hoping the words will magically hold meaning, then give in and reach for your phone.

_ Come over _

You sigh. If only.

_ Can’t. Still got a stack of papers to grade. _

_ That’s what tomorrow’s for. _

_ You’re a bad influence _

_ You’re a bad habit _

And then, before you get a chance to reply:  _ Come over. I wanna sex you up. Also, I made cannoli. _

You sigh again, switching between glaring at the pile of assignments in front of you and looking wistfully at your phone. You keep it up long enough that the screen darkens. When it lights up again it’s to reveal a picture of Castiel and the words  _ Prof. Novak (Black Hole Thermodynamics).  _ You roll your eyes at the ringtone that accompanies it.  _ Don’t Stand So Close To Me _ by The Police.

Cas thought he was funny when he replaced the default tune on your third date. That was months ago and you still threaten to change it back but never do. You should also probably change his name in your phone to something a little more familiar, too. You aren’t likely to forget which class he teaches anymore anyway.

“Hey,” You say.

_ “Hey. How long ‘til you get here?”  _ You hear a smacking sound and you know he’s licking his fingers clean, probably of powdered sugar.

You grunt. You want to lick his fingers clean of, possibly, powdered sugar. “You make a compelling pitch. You sure your true calling isn’t sales?”

He laughs at that. He always laughs at your dumb jokes.  _ “It’s just because I know my target clientele.” _

“That’s me?”

_ “That’s you,”  _ He hums.  _ “Come on, I know you’ve been at your office all day. You probably don’t understand what you’re reading anymore by now and you teach the material for a living.” _

You grumble. He has a point. You  _ have  _ been reading the same three lines on a loop.

He can probably sense you caving because he says,  _ “Come over. We’ll have dessert and then we’ll eat the cannoli.” _

You laugh. “Real smooth, Cas.”

You can picture his satisfied smirk. You wish you were there to wipe it off his face. 

“The student evaluations for teacher performances are coming up soon so I wanna get these graded quick-”

_ “Don’t worry about that sort of stuff.” _

“No,  _ you  _ don’t have to worry about that sort of stuff. You have tenure. This is my first semester teaching. I’d like to be hired back next year.”

_ “Babe,”  _ He sighs into the receiver.  _ “You’re great at what you do. The faculty  _ and  _ the department heads love you. Even if all that wasn’t the case, getting your students their papers back quickly won’t really change how they decide to evaluate you. They’ve probably already made up their minds on whether they like you or not.” _

“That last part is really reassuring. Thanks Cas. What was that about knowing your clientele?”

He laughs and it makes the tension in your shoulders dissipate.  _ “Come over.”  _ He says for the however-many-eth time.  _ “Bring the assignments. We’ll both get some work done after desserts.” _

 

He hadn’t made any promises per se but when he lets you into his apartment, he fucks you as though he had. You don’t even make it to the bedroom. You start right there against the front door then move to the dining table. When you eat your cannoli, sprawled on the table top, you take your time licking some powdered sugar off of his chest. Then, you sit on his sofa, a red pen in hand and the assignments on your lap, your legs on his and his computer on your shins while he works on something. He’s either preparing a course or rereading that article you know he’s getting published.

That night, you sleep in his bed and in his arms and you sleep well.

 

The next morning, sitting on a stool at the counter, you watch Cas, in nothing but his boxers, mix ingredients for batter while the waffle iron heats up. You tease him about owning one and he suggests you get acquainted with the cereal shelf in the cupboard. You laugh and apologise profusely for your disrespect.

“I stained my shirt last night. Well, you stained my shirt last night when you decided to toss it on the fern. Got something I can borrow for the day?” You ask him, tugging at the oversized, even on him, sleepshirt you’d thrown on when you went to sleep.

“Yeah.” He pours batter onto the waffle maker and you both pause to listen to the satisfying sizzle. “I have tighter fitting undershirts in the sock drawer.” 

You nod at Cas and make your way to the bedroom.

He watches you go before returning to making breakfast. He hoped to catch a glimpse of the shirt riding up but no such luck.

It isn’t a minute later that he hears you yell his name. 

He jogs over and finds you standing in front of his dresser. The top drawer is open and you’re holding up, by the back clasp, a ring gag in front of your face. Your eyes are nearly as wide as the ring itself and it’s a comical sight to Cas.

“Are you trying to fifty shades of grey me?” You ask turning your head to him.

He laughs and leans against the doorframe. Much too casually, in your opinion. “Is that your only point of reference for all things BDSM?”

The word- or the acronym, you guess- rolls off his tongue comfortably. Like he has regularly scheduled conversations about the matter. 

Cas laughs again so you think your face must have done something without your consent.

“ _ No. _ ” It’s a little too vehement, the way you say it. “I’m hip. I’m in the know. I’m jiggy with it.” He laughs again but you barrel on. “Still, suspicious, no? Older professor seduces young, new, hot, super super hot, new teacher.”

“You said ‘new’ twice.”

You roll your eyes and continue. “Once he’s got her within his clutches, he drags her to a sex dungeon, has his wicked way with her.”

“No dungeon, I’m afraid, but that hasn’t stopped me from having my wicked way whatsoever, don’t you agree?”

You sigh dramatically like your entire relationship has been some sort of hassle and not one of the better things in your life. “Are you secretly a billionaire at least?”

“No, but I’m hung.”

The straight face he maintains has you laughing and he smiles adoringly at you. It makes you shiver.

“They’re just toys,” He says, softly.

You say, “They’re a lot of toys.”

You turn back to the drawer and notice that you’ve been holding up the gag to your face this whole time. You turn red, one of your favourite things about yourself of course, and drop the thing back in its place- because it has a place, because the drawer is  _ organised _ .

Cas is behind you and you only startle a little. He places his hands on your hips and his chin on your shoulder.

“They’re just toys,” He repeats.

Your eyes skim over the contents of the drawer. Some types of stuff you recognise- a few you own, even- some you don’t. “You like fun do ya?”

He hums in agreement.

“I didn’t even know you liked- that you’re into,” You swoop a hand above everything. “This.”

“I should have brought it up when I first got you to agree to go out with me. Or at the very least I should have an ad running in the university newsletter at all times.”

You turn your eyes to the heavens in mock-annoyance, but he can feel your smile where his cheek touches yours.

“It’s no big deal,” He says like he means to reassure you.

“It’s a large enough sized deal that you have a whole drawer for it. With dividers.”

He shrugs.

“Does that- Does this- Does it mean that what we’ve been doing… Has it not been, y’know, good. I guess that’s the word. Has it not been good for you?”

He turns you to face him, suddenly and fast enough that you’re reminded of just how strong Castiel actually is under his usual sweaters and blazers. His chest is bare now, though, and you get an eyeful of all that lean muscle.

“With you it’s perfect,” He says.

You roll your eyes, as though it could hide your blush, and look away.

“Hey, none of that.” He angles your face back towards him. “Would I have bribed you with italian desserts to get you in my bed if I didn’t like what we do?”

“No,” You admit after a moment of his unrelenting staring. You decide not to mention that technically he didn’t get you to the bed.

“There you go.” He leans in for a kiss and you can tell in the exact way his lashes flutter shut that he intends for it to be a soft one.

You lean back. “But has it been… enough for you?” You turn back around to look in the drawer.

“They’re just toys.”

“So you’ve said.”

“You want to try them?”

You don’t say anything.

“You want to try  _ it _ ?” He asks and tries to keep his voice as natural sounding as possible but you don’t miss the smallest of hitches.

“What’s ‘it’?”

“BDSM.”

There’s that word- acronym, whatever- again. It sounds out of place in the apartment of a more than respectable university physics professor. An apartment that’s bathed in innocent early morning sunlight at the moment, that has plants in every room and an open breathable floor plan. That has mostly white furniture and whatever isn’t white is light wood. That has paintings of gardens on the walls. This is not where you find words like BDSM.

His sheets are cream coloured not black. The couch isn’t dark leather, the wood isn’t cherry-red. Yet,  _ bdsm _ fits in Cas’ mouth even as it resounds starkly against the walls of his bedroom.

“What, like, with a contract? You want me to call you master and make your every wish my command?” You put your hands together in prayer position, as you speak, and nod your head curtly.

Cas laughs and turns you again. This time he pushes you against the dresser until the drawer shuts. “No contract unless you’d feel more comfortable with one, but I definitely think we should discuss this genie kink of yours.”

You’re blushing again and Cas is laughing again and you hate the world again and you wish you had remembered which drawer is the sock drawer. Except you kind of don’t wish that at all.

 

You’re sitting across from Cas at the dining area table, when you say, “This looks like a contract.”

“It’s a checklist,” He corrects, taking another bite of his slightly burnt waffle. “To help establish what you're into. What you’d like to try.”

Your own plate (he gave you the good waffle) is off to the side, devoured in its entirety. He’d told you, while he printed the stack of papers currently in your hands, that you had to finish your food before you got to look at the document.

_ “They’re just a pile of loose leafs,” You argued. _

_ “I’m stapling them together. That makes them a document.” He glared at you, stapling with more force than necessary.  _

The small, knowing smile he gave you when you scarfed your food down (you think you swallowed a blueberry whole) made you feel like you had just taken a test and you were in that limbo where you think you did well but you don’t really know. It also sent a small shiver down your spine.

“It  _ looks  _ like a contract,” You repeat, mostly to be a little shit but also because it really does. “There’s even a place for me to sign.”

You expect Cas to sigh, or to huff or to roll his eyes, but he just takes another bite of his food and patiently says, “It’s not for you to sign. It’s for you to label, so I know whose it is.”

That makes sense. It doesn’t actually say to sign, you notice. Then you say, “You’ve done this before. Had someone fill this out before.”

“Yes.” He looks at you. Assessing your reaction.

You don’t think you have much of one, at least not one he could detect. You feel a little- a lot- inexperienced, though. You haven’t been a blushing virgin in a while (though Cas  _ has  _ made you blush more than once since last night, most of it right here on this table), but you hadn’t thought there was this much of a gap between you. At least not in the sex department.

Everything else is a different story. Cas is a published author, a respected member of the scientific community, a rockstar of sorts, as far as academia is concerned. You… You think you lucked out getting this teaching position, fresh postgraduate that you are. In your defense, Cas is older, has had time to build his career, to make a name for himself. That doesn’t make him any less brilliant, any less out of your league, any fewer worlds beyond you. You thought sex might be the exception, but of course he’s-

“Is that not okay with you?”

“Of course it’s not not okay. I’m just…I don’t know.” Then you say, “How many?”

“Does it matter?” He asks.

“I guess it depends on your answer.”

He frowns at that.

You think you’ve upset him. Of course, might as well have called him a slut.

“Why are you doing that with your face?”

“What’s wrong with my face?” You ask him, touching your fingertips to your cheek.

“You were cringing.”

“Oh.” You pause and he waits for you to unpause. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

He frowns again. “You didn’t.”

“Okay,” You say because you don’t know what else to do. You thumb at the corner of the pages still on the table.

“A handful of people, give or take. Is that too many?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know the number, if there is one, between just enough and too many. I asked to see if I could contend.”

“It’s not a competition.” He says very seriously. Then he waits for you to look at him, which you do because you feel his eyes asking you to. “I’m not going to be making comparisons, sweetheart. I’m not one of your students, I won’t be submitting a review by the end of the semester.”

“Okay,” You accept, again because you don’t know what else to do.

“It’s still sex. Just different.”

“Okay.”

“This has gotten you in your own head, maybe it isn’t such a good idea.” He reaches for the document and you find yourself ripping it out of his reach and to your chest.

There’s a long moment where he looks into your eyes and you don’t dare look away from his. The way you clutch the checklist is a reminder of your previous outburst. He just keeps staring and your heart keeps racing and your face keeps blushing and  _ you should have known the socks are in the second drawer. _

Then, he smirks. “Okay, maybe you’re more into this than I thought.”

“I’m curious.” You admit, looking down.

He hums, his lips curling into a humoured smile, but keeps himself from outright laughing. 

“Shut it, Novak.”

“Read,” He tells you.

So you read.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kink negotiation!
> 
> “Cas.” You stop him. He looks up to find you beet red. “Maybe you can read in your head and make your own notes and then I can read what you wrote and-”
> 
> “Nah.” He smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
> 
> “Cas.”
> 
> “Your suggestion is extremely unappealing both because I enjoy watching you squirm and because it’s highly inefficient. Mostly, though, we need- you need to be able to talk about it if you want to do it.”
> 
> “Pretty sure there’s no rule that says that.”
> 
> “I make the rules.”

There’s a blurb at the beginning that depicts the dynamic within the relationship. It has words like _dominant_ and _submissive_ and _following orders_ . Words like _control_ and _rules_ and _consequences._ It explains that all activities would be within discussed boundaries and both parties can tap out at any time with the use of a pre-established safeword.

There’s a line explaining to indicate if the following are a _yes_ a _no_ or a _maybe_ and to add any comments and/or caveats.

Then, the checklist begins. It’s pages of one long enumeration of sexual acts and toys and positions with a line next to each one for you to write your stance on. Some of the things make your eyes widen, some make you blush, some make you squirm, some make you wet. Much like the toys in Cas’ drawer, some you know of, some you don’t, but even those that are familiar to you, you see in a new light. You wouldn’t just be doing these things, you’d be doing them because Cas tells you to. You’d be doing them when and how Cas tells you to.

You’ve skimmed your way through the first page and a half when you look up from the document for the first time. You had pointedly been ignoring Cas, to keep things from getting awkward. For you. Cas seemed right in his element, happily eating his waffle and glancing at you between bites. Sometimes staring for a moment as he chewed thoughtfully.

“Do you have another of these?” You ask him, lifting the document a bit so he knows what you’re talking about. Though, you don’t know what else he could think you’re referring to.

“I can print one.” He looks at you curiously.

You nod and jump to your feet. You walk the short distance to the couch where you left your work the previous night. You return to the table with your red pen in hand.

Cas continues to watch you as you annotate the document like you’re doing academic research. You underline words, write comments in the margins, he even saw you draw a small graph. After a minute or so, Cas leaves you to it and brings the plates to the sink. He decides to wash them then and there, which isn’t his habit.

Saturday mornings he likes to go for a run, but the thought of leaving you at this time is out of the question to him. He’d picked up on your slight submissive tendencies but he hadn’t considered bringing this up so early on in the relationship.

You two had met late in the summer, before the official beginning of the semester and you had absolutely infatuated him. By the end of the first week of school he’d gotten you to agree to a date, even though he could tell you thought it'd make a bad impression or get you a bad reputation at the school. Dating coworkers isn’t forbidden but it isn’t particularly celebrated either.

Still, you agreed and Cas likes to think it’s because you felt the same things he did even then. You two simply hit it off. Which surprised no one more than him because he wasn’t usually interested in dating younger women. You keep up with him better than more than a few of his peers, though. You aren’t just smart, you’re keen, sharp and quick on the uptake. The university did a good job scooping you up and the physics department will more than benefit from having you.

So no running today, because Cas has a beautiful, endearing, intelligent woman sitting at his kitchen table filling out a BDSM checklist and using her phone to, apparently, do a bit of research on some of it. You’re nothing if not thorough.

Cas watches you a little longer from the kitchen before he decides he’s getting creepy and goes back to sit across from you. This time, with his computer as he gets some work of his own done.

 

“Okay,” You say, a while later.

Cas looks up from his screen and watches you inhale deeply, setting down your red pen with a shaky hand.

You say, “You want tea?”

Cas raises a brow at you.

“Fine, coffee, you addict.”

“Sure.”

He finishes up what he’s doing so that it isn’t left hanging while you rummage around the kitchen. He keeps glancing at you as you do so. When you return, he’s closed his laptop and set it aside with his notepad on top of it.

You each take sips of your respective drinks, watching each other over the rims of your mugs.

“May I?” He says.

For a moment you consider playing dumb, just to stall, but you end up shrugging and pushing the document towards him. “I have questions,” You tell him.

“I can see that.” Which he can. The first page is littered with literal question marks and Cas figures it’s the same for the rest. He even spots a few asterisks with the note _see back of page_. You ran out of space for your comments. Cas kind of loves that you ran of space for your comments.

You blush, feeling dumb, and mumble, “Sorry.”

Cas hears honest to God shame in your voice and his head snaps up. “Hey, no. It’s a good thing.”

You look at him like you don’t believe him.

“Talking, communicating, it’s so important in any kind of relationship. It’s especially necessary when there’s a dynamic with such a heavy handed shift in power. We’ve got to be on the same page. Alright?”

You nod and when he continues to stare at you, you say, “Alright, Cas.”

“I don’t ever want you to hesitate to ask me questions, or to speak up about something you don’t like, or something you _do_ like. That stands all of the time. Whether we’re having kinky sex, regular sex or no sex.” He waits. “Say you understand.”

You wonder how your body isn’t in distress with how all your blood keeps rushing to your face. Cas gave you a direct order and it’s a simple one and it should be easy to just say yes because it’s not like you don’t agree. It’s not like you haven’t had this conversation about being vocal with each other, before. But it’s not easy. It feels like a huge deal.

“I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start with what we have here.” He uncaps the blue pen he’d been using earlier and looks at you for some sign to move forward.

You’re grateful for the out he gives you but you wonder if he’s disappointed. He doesn’t _look_ disappointed. Just open and earnest. Clearly you hadn’t let him down enough for him to want to pull the plug, so you decide that you freezing up isn’t that big of a deal.

“Alright,” You say.

He grins at you and it’s devilish and handsome and wicked enough that you think he might have lied before about the lack of a dungeon.

 

He looks at the document, his eyes traveling over the first page slowly.

“There are a lot of _maybe_ s, on here.” He comments.

“Because a lot of the items are maybes for me.”

He looks up at you.

“Because I don’t really know, you know.” When he just keeps looking you continue. “Okay, like that first thing on the list for example.”

You stand to sit back down with your legs folded beneath you, giving you the height to reach across and pull the document closer, placing it halfway between you. You take the blue pen out of his hand and tap the line with the first item.

“Abrasion. It’s the stimulation of the skin with rough textures. It’s supposed to be erotic.” Cas smiles at you like he knows you had to look it up, which he does. “And, like, I can’t imagine myself enjoying that but people _do_ , right? So there’s gotta be something to it… Right?”

Cas shrugs. “Different strokes for different folks.”

“Was that a pun?” You ask, incredulous at his timing.

“A very subtle play on words which you picked up on,” He says, then, as a joke, adds, “Good girl.”

But your breath hitches and your ankles cross under your ass and your grip on the pen tightens just a bit as you swallow down a lump in your throat. Cas sees it all with his quickly darkening eyes.

“Huh.” He says looking like he’s contemplating your entire existence.

“Shut up,” You snap.

He chuckles.

“Shut up, Cas. And stop being so anal about puns versus play on words.”

“There’s a distinction,” He defends.

“Your face is a distinction.”

“Queen of wit, everyone.”

“Can we,” You wave an agitated and a decidedly unshaky- _ha!_ \- hand over the document. “Okay?”

“Okay,” He says very seriously, still yanking your chain.

You huff. “So bottom line is maybe. Have you- Do you- enjoy it?”

Cas shrugs. “Not really. We can still have you try it out though.”

“No, in the venn diagram of things I like and the things you like I want us to always be in the intersection. We might hit and miss a few times because there’s a lot of _maybe_ s in my case but you know what you like.”

Cas would argue. Would tell you he’s more than happy to help you explore things even if they aren’t his cup of tea (or cup of coffee, as it happens) but you spoke with such assuredness he decides to let it go for now and nods.

“Okay,” You take a breath. “Next item.”

You move to turn the document so you can read the right way around, but Cas pulls it towards him and tells you to sit back, which you do.

In his deep voice, without fanfare, he reads:

 **Anal sex** _Yes_

He smirks then.

 **Anal plug (small)** _Sure_

 **Anal plug (large)** _Size reference (??)_

 **Anal plug (public, under clothes)** _Discuss! (maybe)_

“Cas.” You stop him. He looks up to find you beet red. “Maybe you can read in your head and make your own notes and then I can read what you wrote and-”

“Nah.” He smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“ _Cas._ ”

“Your suggestion is extremely unappealing both because I enjoy watching you squirm and because it’s highly inefficient. Mostly, though, we need- _you_ need to be able to talk about it if you want to do it.”

“Pretty sure there’s no rule that says that.”

“I make the rules.”

Your mouth dries so fast you find yourself reaching for your forgotten-until-now tea that’s turned cold, nearly knocking it over.

“There I go, getting ahead of myself again.” In the same breath, he continues, giving you whiplash. “Later, you can take out from the drawer all the toys the size of which you aren’t comfortable with. All the toys you aren’t comfortable with in general, but we discuss most of them in the checklist anyway.”

You nod, looking into your mug, watching the particles of herbs that escaped the tea bag float, sink and float back up.

“Does that sound reasonable to you?”

You think he’s messing with you again so when you look up it’s with a glare at the ready. His eyes aren’t mocking though. They’re kind and open and a little heady. “Yes.” You croak out. You have sex appeal coming out the wazoo, clearly.

“So, anal plug in public.”

“It’d have to be discreet.” You rush out to say. “And not right off the bat. And I need to be able to back out whenever.”

“You’re always able to back out whenever.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” And then, “Wait here.” He drops the document and rises to his feet.

That startles you. You watch, twisting in your seat, his still-only-boxer-clad body walk over to his messy office area. His apartment is one big space that has a loft-style layout with an adjacent bedroom, so he doesn’t have an actual office but the nook where he’s put two desks in an L-shape works just as well. Even though he can't keep it as organised as, say, his drawer of sex toys.

You really like Cas’ place, which doesn’t surprise you, you like most things about Cas. The high ceiling and the back wall, that’s mostly all windows, make it look even bigger than it is. You feel like there’s more room for your head here as opposed to your tiny studio where you sometimes feel like if you think too hard, your thoughts will bounce off the walls and smack you down.

He returns with a new stack of papers, bringing the stapler with him so you can watch him make it a document. You roll your eyes. Despite all his qualities, Cas is such a fucking weirdo. He brings another blue pen with him and scribbles a few things. From then on, he notes all the stipulation, restrictions and comments that go with the _maybes_ on the new document. He also writes _no_ s and _yes_ es wherever appropriate. This version won’t be covered in your questions because they’ll be answered.

You have a BDSM checklist draft and a BDSM checklist final copy. And it’s still morning.

“Okay,” He says. Then reads.

 **Arm & leg sleeves (binders) ** _No_

“That’s your first no, excluding abrasions. Is it a no for all bondage?”

The words slide easily out of his mouth and you decide you need to stop from feeling like you’re dying each time he speaks nonchalantly about these things, like he's helping you fill out your tax return, or else you won’t make it through the list.

“It’s just a no for the binders. I looked them up and I don’t like the visual. I don’t think I’d like the feeling either. I like the idea of being restrained but not so much feeling so trapped. It wasn’t on the list but I definitely don’t want those masks that usually come with the binders, the ones that cover your entire face, either.”

Cas nods and jots a simple _no_ down. “That’s okay.”

“Is it?” You ask, suddenly unsure of yourself. “If you wanted to we-”

He looks you in the eyes. “The intersection of the venn diagram, right?”

“Right.”

“Besides, it’s not my favourite kind of bondage, not in the least.”

You lick your lips, eyes still locked with his. “What is?”

He seems to think about it but somehow you know what he’s pondering is whether he wants to divulge the information or keep it to himself for now.

He makes up his mind, giving you a little but leaving out a lot. “I’ll use leather when I’m cuffing you to furniture and rope when I’m tying you in different positions.”

Then, without missing a beat, leaving you reeling for a moment with a string of mental images, he reads:

 **Asphyxiation** _Willing to try if you start off really_ _really_ _easy and you warn me beforehand (and you don’t kill me)(do you have experience? Is it something you’re knowledgeable/comfortable doing? Do you like it?)_

“I’m not going to kill you,” He says with a laugh.

You say, “You don’t know that. Accidents happen.”

“If you’re worried-”

“If I didn’t want to try it, I’d have written no. I read a couple first account experiences and they made it sound like the best ecstasy trip.” You shrug. “Do you like it?” With the pen you’re still holding, you reach over to tap the document where you know that same question is written.

“I like doing it when it makes my submissive-” _my submissive “-_ feel like they’re on the best ecstasy trip.” He quirks a smile. “That brings me pleasure but not the act within itself. But yes, for everything on the list, I do have experience and know what I’m doing so as not to cause you harm.”

“You mean other than the lack of oxygen and blood flow.”

“Naturally.”

You’re both grinning.

He writes: _To be tested with slow beginnings and forewarning._

“Hey, look. We made it to the Bs and only thirty percent of your blood is in your cheeks.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs teasingly then reads.

 **Bathroom use control** _No, I’d like to keep my bladder to myself. (Why is this sexy?)_

He takes the question at face value, doubting that you’d mean it derisively. “It depends on the person. Some just like to relinquish the control. Others feel physical pleasure from being forced to hold it in and then allowed to let it out.”

“Fair enough.”

 **Beating (soft/hard)** _Sure_ _I thought this was spanking but then I got to ‘spanking’. You want to beat me up?_

“I don’t want to beat you up.” He laughs.

“Good, ‘cause I could take you.” You challenge playfully.

He raises a brow at you.

“It’s for the sake of the pain?” You ask, getting back to business.

“Partly.”

“I don’t think I’d like that. You know, one’s bum has more padding. I don’t want broken bones or-”

“Jesus. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

You maintain your serious expression and watch Cas’ grow more scandalised. Then, you’re cackling.

“ _Not_ funny.”

“Kind of funny.”

“I was starting to think that you actually think I want to hurt you.”

“I don’t,” You tell him seriously. “I do think the whole pain thing might not be for me though.”

Castiel nods. He writes something down but you don’t bother looking. You know it’s a _no._

 **Blindfolding** _Sure_

 **Being serviced** _Who to who? This document is lacking in clarity. You’re supposed to be a man of science. I’m disappointed. (Also, sure in either direction.)_

Castiel has a fleeting thought about your word choice. You write _sure._ Rarely _yes._

 **Biting** _Sure (we already do this) (Is it different like this?)_

 **Breath control** _See asphyxiation. (page one)_

 **Branding** _Um, no._

“What about non permanent marking?”

You laugh. “What you want visual proof that I'm yours?”

“Yes.”

You choke. He doesn't growl the word. He says it very matter-of-factly and it’s got your thighs clenching in the tight denim. “Okay,” You breathe.

 **Bondage (light/heavy/public under clothes)** _Okay but my muscles gotta be able to function the next day if I have work. The public thing is fine too but I don’t particularly understand the appeal._

 **Chores (domestic)** _Clean your own apartment_

 **Collars (private/public)** _Not in public. Don’t ask me to bark because I will leave you._

 **Dildos** _Sure. See ‘Butt Plugs’ for sizes._

 **Electro-play** _No thanks_

 **Exhibitionism (friends/strangers)** _Absolutely not. / What would it entail with strangers? Probably not though. Okay, for public space but secretive? Semi-public? (Let’s not get arrested, though.)_

You two table this one for now, agreeing to have a conversation about it if ever it comes up.

 **Eye contact restrictions** _Sure._ _Don’t see what the_ _Shouldn’t be too different from being blindfolded._

 **Face slapping** _Only if I can slap back. (not sarcasm)_

 **Fisting (anal/vaginal) (** _No no no no.)_ _to the tenth power_

 **Forced masturbation** _Doubt you’ll have to force me, so sure._

 **Forced nudity** _This is still about sex right?_

Cas says, “You know your commentary keeps getting cheekier.”

“What’s wrong, old man? Not sure you’ve got the prowess to subdue me?”

Cas smiles at you and it’s a little frightening. There’s a dark look in his eyes like he can’t wait to make you eat your words. He doesn’t say or do anything else, though, and then he carries on reading in the same deep almost methodical voice. You think you’re going to have blood pressure complications by the time this day ends.

 **Gags (cloth/phallic/ball [plastic or rubber] /tape)** _Sure / Only your phallic ;)_ -(Cas lets out a loud laugh here)- _/ okay and A-okay / No tape if it’ll irritate my skin pls. Also, I don’t know how I feel about the ring gag._

 **Hair pulling** _You already know, dude_

 **Humiliation (degrading speech)** _what?_

“I didn’t bother looking that up.” You say once Cas has read your comment.

“So it does not interest you?”

“I’m not even sure what it is.”

“The idea is to heighten the sexual experience of a person by having them tap into emotions of shame.”

“How does that work? How does it make sex better?” With the intrigued look you’re sporting, you seem very much like the scientist that you are to Cas in that moment.

“Some might say the same thing about pain, yet the world has masochists. In fact the region of the brain that deals with embarrassment is similar and near the one that deals with pain.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Humiliation is vast and borrows from other kinks. Bathroom use control, for example, which we’ve already discussed. Some enjoy it for what it is. Others for the humiliation that comes with having to ask to relieve themselves. Wearing collars, which you’ve agreed to in private, and if I don’t ask you to bark, is another example. Some find an element of humiliation in wearing one.”

“Um… I don’t think that’s why I said yes to that…” You say looking at not-Cas.

“No, I didn’t think so.”

You look up at him curiously.

Cas opts to forge on with his explanation instead of telling you that he thinks you’d like to feel both owned and like you belong to someone. “In the case of speech, which is what this item is about since all other acts with the intent of humiliation would still need to be discussed separately, it’s about talking down to the person.”

“Like you’d be condescending?”

“It could be that. I wouldn’t dream of insulting your intellect, however. I’d imagine it going differently. Would you like it if I called you a slut that’s only good for taking my cock?”

“I- euh, I’m- So like dirty talk?”

Cas smirks. “You’re not answering the question, but yes, like pejorative dirty talk.”

“Um, I- I could do that kind of dirty talk. Y’know, on occasion.”

“I’ll make note of it.” He says, writing down a _yes._

 **Knife play** _Nopitynope. For the record: No blood. No permanent damage ever._

 **Nipple stimulation (clamps)** _Sounds good. (Willing to try the clamps, will let you know if I don’t like it.) You already know though that my breasts aren’t all that sensitive._

 **Orgasm control/denial** _Yes._

Castiel pauses. Looks at the rare _yes_ then looks at you with so many promises at the tip of his tongue. You break eye contact, barely of your own volition, as your eyes are drawn to his long elegant neck when he swallows.

 **Outfits (costumes/lingerie/etc.)** _Sure but maybe discuss something totally out of the box._

“Would you let me,” Cas licks his lips, his eyes steady on yours. “Let me chose what you wear on a given day.”

You’ve talked about having stuff put up your ass but for some reason this question has you feeling a little dizzy. Has you wetting your underwear just a little bit more. Has you wondering just what it is you’ve gotten yourself into and why you aren’t regretting it. Not the littlest bit.

“Would you like that?” You rasp out. Why does your voice sound like you’ve been fucked? You haven’t. Castiel hasn’t touched you, yet. Yet. Yet. Yet.

“Yes.” You haven’t touched him either, so why does he sound thoroughly fucked out too?

Your face is so hot, burning enough you think it might start sizzling like the waffle iron did earlier. “Promise you won’t put me in a sweater vest?”

Cas laughs and it’s full of glee and you’re so proud you’re the one who made it happen. He winks at you and says, “It’d be up to me.”

The moment has lightened, yet when you speak next it’s heavy with intent- with _meaning_. “Yes, I’d let you.” The idea that you’d wear something all day, as simple as the blue jeans and tee you have on now, just because Cas has asked you- told you- to feels strangely erotic amidst all this… this BDSM talk.

You continue to look at Cas and at first he looks pleased (you _don’t_ keen), but then he looks indecisive for a moment, until he seems to settle on his response. He says, “Good girl.”

( _The small sound you let out is NOT a moan.)_

 **Spankings (hand/paddle/crop/flogger/cane/etc.)** _Sure. Slow build up, buttercup._

“This is surprising.” Cas says.

You frown. “It is?”

“Earlier, with the beating item, you said you weren’t interested in pain.”

“I did, but… I mean...”

Cas continues to look at you. He’s always looking at you and it’s always so unrelenting. Was he like this before today? Did you just fail to notice?

“You’re going to need to finish that sentence, babe.”

You kind of want to glare at him because he says it reassuringly but there’s a hint of teasing there. You _would_ glare at him but your mind is too busy searching for words.

He waits. Like he has all day. Prick.

“That’s- It’d be because-” You take a deep breath, shutting your eyes tightly. You let the shiver that’s been building rake through your body, then look back at Cas. “It’s not about the pain.”

“Oh? What is it about?” He’s mocking you again but he’s giving you a curious look. His features are still kind, letting you know that whatever it is, he’s here to hear it. Maybe he isn’t pulling your leg? Maybe he doesn’t know what you’re getting at? Maybe it isn’t obvious?

“It’s about punishment.” When a beat passes and all Cas does is let his eyes widen your voice wavers. “Right?”

Cas, once he collects his bearings, smiles at you softly, with the same adoration he had for you by the dresser. It turns into a smirk. “Not if you like it.”

He continues reading.

 **Spreader bars** _Okay_

“Last item on the list,” Cas says.

 **Suspension** _I fear for my safety_

“I get that you’re joking a lot probably because it helps you get through this conversation since it’s so new and it’s a lot. You’re someone who deflects generally speaking and you have these defense mechanisms and humour is one of th-”

“Please stop psychoanalysing me.”

“What I’m saying is, you’ve said more than once something to the extend of me injuring you, or you being in danger. You do get that the last thing I want is for you to get hurt on any level, right? You understand that this is founded in trust?”

Cas looks… hurt.

“Shit, Cas. I didn’t mean anything by it-”

“It’s okay if you did. It’s okay if you don’t feel like it’s for you. There’s a big part of this that’s about relinquishing control and it’s okay for you to not be up for it.”

“I am!” You say a little too eagerly with a bounce, making you flush again, but it seems to relax Cas so maybe your embarrassment is worth it.

“You know that I want to take care of you?”

You nod at him, worrying your lip between your teeth and willing the red out of your cheeks.

“Say it.”

“Yeah, Cas.” He shakes his head at you and you don’t get why but some part of you must because then you’re saying, “You want to take care of me.”

“Good.” He says slowly and smirks at how you stop breathing for a moment. You’re waiting for more and he’ll give it to you but later. “Do you have other questions?” There’s no more teasing in his voice now, it’s back to being open and urging you to do the same.

“How does this work exactly? You tell me to do sexy stuff and I do them and we both get off.” You do jazz hands.

“Essentially.”

“What if I don’t want to do what you’re asking at the time?”

“Then you use your safeword. I believe I know you well enough not to push too far beyond your limits, and I’ll be starting off slow, but if I do then it’s important for you to communicate that and-”

“Cas,” You interrupt. “That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about what if you want to spend the night giving each other head and I really want to fuck.”

“Well, you can bring it up and I might reconsider the evening’s plans.”

“Might?” You frown.

“It’s about your pleasure but it’s me who decides how you get it. Besides, I doubt you’d object to that.”

“You do give good head.” You wink at him and it’s more joking than sexy but it’s all truth.

He laughs. “Though that’s accurate, it’s not what I mean.”

“Then, what?”

“Part of the pleasure for a submissive is in obeying.”

 _Obeying._ You shift in your seat, ignoring the tingle on your skin, and look at the painting of the meadow behind his head.

“And I think it’s your case. So if what _I_ want is to eat you out, take my time doing it, you’d enjoy it but you’d also enjoy letting me.”

You snap your eyes back to him. “You can’t know that. That it’s,” You make air quotes. “My case.”

“No I can’t. But you hate it when someone is upset with you and you bend over backwards to please people. Lucky for you, I’ll only be asking you to bend over forwards.”

You roll your eyes at him because that was lame and he knows it. “You’ve thought of this before. Of me...b-being a su- Maybe being into this.”

“I wonder how that happens. The switch in your head where one minute you can say you want my cock inside you without blinking and the next you’re undone, blushing and bashful, unable to say-”

“I said I might want to fuck, I never said anything about your cock inside me. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Cas laughs. “There it goes. You’ve flipped the switch again.”

You huff. “Stop changing the subject.”

“Yes, I’ve thought about this before.”

“But I’m… I’m not _docile._ I’m stubborn and argumentative and-”

“What do you think a submissive is exactly?” He chuckles. “Do you think you’re signing up to be a doormat?”

You take a long moment to respond. “The point is we can’t know.”

“No, we can’t,” Cas agrees. “Not for certain anyway. Which is why we’re exploring this, right? If we realise you’re not getting anything from it then we’ll know. Maybe you’ll even realise you’d want to be on the other side of the situation.”

“You mean m-me d-do…” You glare at the mirth in his eyes. “Dominate you.” You practically bark the words out.

He has a full blown smile now, like he’s proud of you. “Sure.”

Your eyes widen at his admittance. “You’d let me do that?”

“To see if you like it? Yeah. Why are you so surprised? You’re letting me.”

“I guess,” You mumble. “So, what, do I gotta call you master or sir or something, now?”

“Do you want to call me master or sir or something, now?”

“That’s not fair. I asked first.”

He just keeps looking at you with his too blue eyes.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Well you definitely can’t call me that.”

You laugh, thankful for the reprieve from the tension.

“You can call me Cas. If somewhere down the line you want to call me something else you can do that too.”

“Okay.” You smile appreciatively.

“You should know that I have every intention of breaking you out of this bad habit where you can’t get words out.”

“O-okay.” You repeat.

“I know you, so what are your other questions?”

Despite everything, despite the tension in your shoulders, the permanent flush of your cheeks, despite the feeling you’ve had in your chest ever since Cas told you _read_ , you can’t help but crack a smile, because he does know you.

“Okay,” You start, in a way that lets Castiel know it’s going to be a long winded sentence. “So I get that I do as I’m told yada yada obey obey good gi- good stuff good stuff orgasms, but do I _just_ do what you tell me?”

Cas, angel that he is, lets your slip up go without mention. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Am I allowed to touch? To talk? Or is it one of those,” Then, in a gruff voice that sounds nothing like no one ever, “Speak when spoken to.”

“I’ll tell you when I want you quiet. I’ll tell you when you aren’t to touch me or yourself.”

Your breathing gets a little heavier. Cas watches you nod in agreement with lustful eyes and you start to wonder if maybe people don’t sign up for this just for the… oh god, this is a _kink negotiation_. One that has you flustered and that seems to be having an effect on Cas too if the way he reaches down to adjust himself is anything to go by. But he’s done this before. Wouldn’t the novelty have worn off for him?

“Hey, Cas,” You say and see his eyes clear from their haze. They’re too focused for you to bear now so you stare at the meadow again. “The toys you’ve got, you’ve used them with other people?”

There’s a long silence where you feel Cas’ eyes beckoning yours to his but you keep staring above him.

“Please look at me,” He says. So you do. He locks eyes with you. “I rebuilt my collection from scratch when I moved out here. I’ve dominated people since, but it wasn’t intimate-”

“Not intimate,” You scoff.

“Not _romantic._ It was always at their place, or at a clu- It was never here. Never with my things. I’ve been in relationships too, but they didn’t take this turn sexually. So the answer is no.” He grins wickedly once he sees your relax a little. “We’re going to pop their bdsm virginity along with yours.”

“Oh, you’re such a-” You don’t finish your sentence opting to toss your- well, _his_ \- pen at him.

He laughs, an easy, carefree sort of laugh and you’d laugh too but he stands to bend and pick up the fallen pen and you spot the shape of his hardening dick against the fabric of his boxers. Laughing really isn’t what you want to be doing with your mouth just then. Not to mention that your brain is on the fritz. You didn’t think going through your non-contract would do _this_ to Cas. You figured it was at least a little like a formality to him.

He settles back in his seat. “Anything else?”

“No-” You clear your throat. “No that’s it for me. For now. Do you have questions?”

He smiles at you big and bright. Of course, you’d ask that. Cas should have expected it. “Would you like a signal to indicate when we begin and when we finish?”

“I think I’ll know when we finish,” You laugh.

He nods agreeably but smiles like he knows a state secret.

“I don’t know if I’d like it to be so formal. So systematic.” You answer his question. “But I did read earlier that there are dangers of having it bleed into… let’s call it real life. So we can try without but if either of us feels like there are kinks we can figure out a system?”

“And by kinks you mean issues, I assume.”

“Oh har har, Cas. Bite me.”

“In a minute.” He winks and there’s no heat in it but your nerves spike anyway. “I’d like you to pick your safeword now.”

“Right, okay.” You look around, rubbing your palms anxiously against your thighs. This is happening. Your eyes land on this morning’s kitchen appliance. “Waffles?” You question out loud, but mostly to yourself. “No, no, I’d like for that to come up during play. Yes, I’m hinting. A scene centered on breakfast food sounds like heaven. ”

“Well, look at you, down with the lingo,” He teases.

You glare at him halfheartedly, your eyes landing on the meadow behind him, again. It’s a pretty picture of a small bird flying over a field of flowers with trees surrounding the area, making it seem like you’re peeking into a hideaway in a much larger patch of woods.  It’s a recently painted piece but done in an impressionist style, he told you once. Most of the artwork in his apartment belongs to that art movement. It’s his favourite.

You’d known, when you had that conversation, that Castiel is more than accomplished in his field, works on ground breaking research, you’d even known that Cas is an extremely knowledgeable guy in general, but that’s when you realised just how cultured he is. Well read, well travelled, moderately well dressed. (He made questionable sweater choices at times.) You’d felt small and insignificant next to him but only for a moment before flooding with hope. Cas has a way of doing that. Lighting up the rooms he walks into, sure, but more importantly he makes everyone inside of it feel like they’re glowing too. Makes them feel full of potential and full of yearning to do good things. Do great things.

“Wings,” You say, looking away from the bird and at Cas.

“Okay.” His small approving smile widens and becomes, there’s no other word for it, it becomes sly. He leans back in his chair and, in his usual gravelly voice, he says, “Come over here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hit me with that feedback
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://fanforfanatic.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Next time, I promise they'll touch each other


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fine. I want to come.”
> 
> “Hmm, I think you can do better.”
> 
> You grunt. “You’re the devil. Or at the very least you’re related to him.”
> 
> “Maybe,” He says, musing.
> 
> You say, “You’re the devil and- and I _want_ _you_ to make me come.” Then, with intended but failed snark, “Please.” It comes out desperate.
> 
> “So polite. We might make a classy lady out of you, yet.”
> 
> “Are you implying that-” 
> 
> He takes his hand off and says, “Lift your shirt up.”

_“I’d like you to pick your safeword now.”_

_“Wings,” You say, looking at Cas._

_“Okay.” His small approving smile widens and becomes, there’s no other word for it, it becomes sly. He leans back in his chair and, in his usual gravelly voice, he says, “Come over here.”_

It’s not particularly commanding but it _is_ a command. You wonder if there’s a spell hidden in the words because there is no more air in your lungs and you can feel your eyes widen more than is probably humanly possible. All eight pints of your blood are in your cheeks and you think you should hurry and sign up for the circus. _Watch This Woman Explode._

“Wings wingswingswings.”

Cas stares at you, his own eyes wide but not enough to challenge your holding of the world record. “That’s reassuring believe it or not. At least, I know that you won’t hesitate to use your safeword.” Cas looks simultaneously worried, amused and in shock. “Baby, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do. I mean, no I don’t have to, I know. But I want to. I’m just-” _Worried I’ll like it too much. Worried I’ll fuck it up._ “I wanted to tell you that I think your checklist can be improved. First, it should be organised in categories not alphabetically. And some items should come with more details. And there should be more space for comments. And...” You take a deep breath, force yourself to calm down, force your heart to slow down. “I want to,” You repeat.

Cas gives you one of the softest looks he’s ever given you- probably one of the softest looks you’ve ever received period- and you don’t know if you should feel pathetic or comforted. You settle for an equally proportioned combination of the two. “You’re certain?” He asks.

You nod and then you decide that’s not enough. That you should speak. “I am.” Cas looks proud if a little unsure. But _you’re_ sure so with a teasing tone you say, “Go on, mister. Boss me around.”

“We’ll start you off easy, alright?” Cas observes you intently, trying to find a sign of hesitation that’s more than just reasonable nerves. He doesn’t find one.

“Okay, Cas.” You say.

“Stand up for me.”

You don’t move for a few beats but eventually you jolt into action. Looking anywhere but at Cas, you untuck one foot from underneath you, anchoring it on the floor before hoisting yourself up. Your hands itch to tug your shirt down just to have something to do but you don’t want to give Cas another reason to doubt you want this.

Technically it’s his shirt since you did eventually track down the sock drawer to steal it. You had also put on yesterday’s jeans. It’s ironic, you think, because you’re mostly clothed and Cas is in nothing but his boxers. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Aren’t you supposed to be in the nude, kneeling at his feet, while he wears a three piece suit? Or something?

“Good. Walk over to me.”

Your movements start out robotic, but at least they start right away. Honestly, at least they _start_ . At least your legs are taking you to Cas and not heading out the door at full speed because of how much of a chicken shit you are. Short as the path from your seat to Cas’ is, somewhere along the way you ease into it. You try not to think about how _simple_ his request is. How he’s humouring you more than anything else. You know Cas isn’t secretly mocking you in his head, because he’s too kind of a person but maybe someone _should be._ You try not to think about that either.

Cas makes it easy because when you finally come to a stop in front of him, he looks up at you happily, fondly. You believe him a little when he says, “Good.”

You rub at the inside of an elbow with the opposite hand to distract yourself from how he keeps staring at you. It doesn’t work.

Slowly like he doesn’t want to startle you, Cas leans forward and places his hands on your hips. “You’re so pretty.” He says.

You let out a small acquiescing grunt, barely a sound at all.

He lifts the white t-shirt you’re wearing enough to reveal the waistband of your pants and a few inches of skin. He places a delicate kiss there that sends a ripple of tingles. “Tell me.”

You frown at him in confusion for a second until you get what he’s asking of you. “ _Cas,_ ” You whine.

He looks you in the eyes and his voice drops an octave. “Tell me.” You feel the words in your clit.

“I’m pretty.” You breathe.

He hums and drops another kiss on your abdomen.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Cas, but I think you’re doing it wrong. Aren’t you supposed to tell me how needy I am for your cock or something.” It’s teasing but you’re still a little breathless as you speak.

Cas looks up at you again and grins, returning his hand to your hip. He tugs you closer suddenly so you’re standing between his legs. “If I want to.” He winks. “Since you brought it up...”

“W-what?”

“Unbutton your pants.”

“I- Yeah, okay, Cas.” You accept.

You slide your hands off of his shoulders, where they had landed, to lift the shirt back up yourself. You thumb at the button of your jeans until it comes undone, your eyes on Cas’ the whole time. His on yours. You pinch the pull tab of the zipper next, by habit mostly, but you freeze before doing more.

“Do I- Did you want me to-” You’re very nervous again which makes you realise that you had become only a little nervous at some point.

Cas looks at you with pride. “So good for me, baby. Go ahead and unzip your pants.”

You let out a sigh, grateful for the task. If you’re doing something then you aren’t overthinking. As soon as the slider hits the bottom stop of the zipper, Cas’ hands swoop down, taking your pants with them, so they’re caught on your upper thighs. You startle, gasp and grip his shoulders again for support of all kinds.

“Needy for my cock, right? Those were your words?”

Cas pinches your thigh and you realise he expects an answer. “Yes, Cas.”

He swallows thickly, his dilating eyes on yours until they flick down to your underwear. “Let’s find out, shall we?” Without any more theatrics he moves the fabric still covering you to the side and presses two fingers against your lips. He doesn’t have to go any further because they get wet from that alone. “ _Fuck._ ”

He looks up at you with wild eyes. He knows the morning had an impact on you, you weren’t exactly trying to hide it with all the squirming you were doing. Or maybe you were trying which only proves his point more, but-

“I’ve never seen you this wet.” His finger aren't drenched or anything, but they're slick enough that he knows they would be if they dip inside even just a little.

Your head is swimming because Cas is finally _finally_ touching you. You’ve been needing it so badly but you were too busy freaking out to notice. You can’t wrap your head around the fact that you didn’t just fling yourself at him an hour ago, let alone whatever Cas is going on about. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of his fingers against you. Just _there._ You want to ask him to do something, to do everything. Anything. Instead you whimper out a shaky, “W-what?”

“Open your eyes.”

You open your eyes.

“You’re so wet,” He rasps, sliding his fingers between your lips.

“ _Cas_ ,” You moan, tightening your grip on his shoulders. You don’t dare look away.

Cas’ tongue darts out to wet his lips just as he touches the tip of a finger to your entrance. A light feather of a touch.

You rock your hips to grind down against his hand and you get one forward motion- one glorious forward motion where the base of his fingers rub your clit and the tips bump against your entrance firmly- before he withdraws his hand entirely. “ _Cas._ ”

He looks at his wet fingers instead of answering you which has you huffing in annoyance. There’s another pinch at your thigh. _Behave._ He doesn’t even have to say it.

“I don’t know if I should feel smug now or ashamed of the sex we’ve had in the past.” Cas contemplates. He’s more put together than before. The wild look in his eyes is replaced by mirth and cockiness. You want to smack him in the face.

“What you _should be_ is putting your mouth to better use than all this dumb talking you’ve been doing.”

“So rude.” Cas smirks. “I don’t know about that. I think we should talk more.”

“Cas,” You grip. “All we’ve done is talk.”

“You think so?” He grins at you and you realise that your boyfriend is an evil man.

“ _Yes_ , I think so.” You’re agitated. He has agitated you. And he knows it.

“So no more talking then, right? That’s not what you want?”

Your eyes flutter shut in despair but they snap open again when he pinches you and growls.

“No more talking, Cas.” You whimper your answer and you’ll feel ashamed later but right now what you want is to straddle his thigh and-

“Okay, you don’t want to talk.” He says casually. “Then, what do you want?”

“I-” That’s as much as you get out. “Cas,” You beg.

He shakes his head. “No free pass this time, baby. You’re going to tell me what you want.”

“I-”

Cas doesn’t totally get it, how you have no problem telling him what you don’t want, what you don’t like, with attitude even, but when it comes to the opposite you end up, well, like this. Even in writing. _Sure_ not _Yes._ He doesn’t get it but he looks forward to figuring it out and breaking you out of the habit.

He moves the hand on your thigh to grip your hip in silent support as his wicked smile softens.

You let out a breath. Cas is here with you. Doing this with you. You just need to pull your big girl pants up, or down, and do this. It’s no different than dirty talk during usual sex, you tell yourself. It’s a lie but you pretend to believe it long enough to say, “I want you to touch me, please.”

“Look at that, you found your manners.” He’s back to teasing. “Because you asked so sweetly, I think I just might.” Then he says, “My good girl.”

Your breath hitches and you’re already trying to figure out how far down you need to get your pants when you hear ringing. You only realise it isn’t inside of your own head when Cas curses. You see him stick his two fingers, still wet with your slick, in his mouth. He doesn’t put on a show, you don’t even think he’s totally conscious of doing it. He’s just cleaning them up so he can reach for his phone. Which he does, making sure to keep those two fingers from touching the back of the device. You feel more heat pooling between your legs.

He grunts when he sees the ID and shoots you an apologetic look.

“Cas, no-”

“Hello?” He speaks gruffly into the receiver.

You glare daggers at him and when he gives you a stern look back your eyes drop involuntarily. You realise what you did and glance back up quickly, ready to glare defiantly again, but Cas looks, a little smug sure, but mostly elated. So you decide you’ll bitch later, right now you’ll just stand there for him. And by that you mean you’ll just stand there. Of course.

“Did you try turning it off and then back on?”

You crack a smile at Cas as the voice on the other end booms over the line. He winks at you and it distracts you enough that you don’t notice the hand on your hip move until it’s over your mound. His thumb dips in to roll over your clit and it’s all you can do to keep quiet.

“No, Dean, I don’t think you’re a dumb hairless ape, but then again you did decide to go to work on a saturday.”

You don’t actually manage to keep quiet. Cas has you mewling as he expertly applies pressure in waves of intensity, keeping you on your toes. You think he doesn’t want you to move so you bite your lip to help keep still.

“Don’t worry about that I backed up the data.” Pause “I didn’t _not_ tell you. You never asked.” Cas laughs quietly at how he’s yanking Dean’s chain.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders and you close your eyes against the sensation when Cas’ flicks his thumb suddenly. As soon as you do, his hand is gone.

“Don’t use the first beta test results as a reference. It’s not _supposed_ to match up, so you’re overreacting. And ruining my Saturday.”

Your eyes snap open like you’ve been slapped and Cas’s eyes are there, blue as ever, unrelenting and hard. You find yourself nodding silently and you don’t close your eyes again, you keep them on his. The hand returns and you actually sigh in relief. That last part might be because of how Cas smiles at you though. Shit, he was right, you don’t like having people upset with you.

“See. When in doubt always turn it off and then- He hung up on me.”

“What an asshole,” You say.

“Huh, you wouldn’t happen to be kissing up to me because you would like me to make you come, would you?”

“I would never, _sir._ ” Your tone is one of mock-offense and sarcasm and the only reason you don’t roll your eyes is because you don’t know if the unspoken rule is that you can’t close them or that you can’t look away altogether. Either way you don’t risk it because you don’t want Cas to stop touching you.

“So you don’t want to come, then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say that.”

“So that’s what this is going to be? Semantics.” He raises a brow at you. “Fine. I want to come.”

“Hmm, I think you can do better.”

You grunt. “You’re the devil. Or at the very least you’re related to him.”

“Maybe,” He says, musing.

You say, “You’re the devil and- and I _want_ _you_ to make me come.” Then, with intended but failed snark, “Please.” It comes out desperate.

“So polite. We might make a classy lady out of you, yet.”

“Are you implying that-”

He takes his hand off and says, “Lift your shirt up.”

Taken off guard, you nod but it takes you a moment to start moving. Cas is giving you serious whiplash with how quickly he switches gears between teasing and… And whatever that tone is when he tells you to do something and makes you want to do as you’re told.

Eventually you manage, though. Taking your hands away from his shoulders, feeling both of his, on your hips again, steadying you, you take hold of the hem of your shirt and lift up to expose the same skin he had.

He keeps looking at you expectantly, then says, “Lift up your shirt to show me your breasts.”

“It’s-” _technically your shirt._ “I-” _don't know why I’m still nervous._ “Okay, Cas.”

You do as you're told and lift the shirt up and over your breasts. Cas just watches. You’ve seen each other naked enough times that there's no reason to be shy but Cas is _just_ watching. Just keeps looking at your breasts while you hold your shirt up so that _he can._ It’s got you squirming under his gaze. You’re both scolding yourself for foregoing your bra this morning and all too grateful that you did. If your underwear wasn’t ruined before it is now.

“Cas,” You whisper. A silent prayer for him to do something.

“You know how much I like art.” He tells you by ways of explanation.

You do roll your eyes this time (his eyes aren't on yours so you think it's okay) and say, “That’s a fucking cheesy li-”

Cas gives your left nipple a wet, sucking kiss which punches the air right out of you. Your breasts aren't the most sensitive but the scrutiny they were under has you on edge. Cas blows cool air over the wet spot and watches with rapt attention as the nipple perks up and hardens.

His mouth returns to you then, less full frontal and more teasing. Licking around your nipple, nudging the bud only once in a while. Then, what was soft touches become scraping teeth and you can't help your laboured breathing.

His hands move to your ass, still helping in keeping you up, but now also kneading. He presses the fabric of your underwear firmly where the cleft of your ass is. They’re tight enough that he can’t really get anywhere, but he manages to wedge the fabric just between your cheeks.

You want to touch him, want to run your fingers through his hair that's never quite as soft as it looks, but you're supposed to hold your shirt up so you don't.

“Casss, _please_.” You hope it doesn't sound as needy to him as it does to you. You don't know what you're asking for but when he takes his mouth off of you, you know that isn't it. For a moment you think you did something wrong. You run the moment in your mind again. Had your eyes closed? Were you not supposed to talk? Did you-

“You’re doing so good, baby.” Cas praises and you fucking sag with relief. He’s looking you in the eyes and he sees it. Sees how the words affect you. Still, tenderly he asks, “How are we doing?”

You nod at him, even manage a small smile but then, because you want to keep being someone he’d praise, you say, “M’good, Cas.”

“Take your pants off.”

You don’t hesitate this time, moving your hands down almost immediately.

Cas spanks your ass. It’s more of a noisy tap than anything else but it still has you bounce to the balls of your feet.

“Keep holding your shirt up for me. I'm not done looking.”

Did he change his mind? No. He wants you to do both. You give him a questioning look and he returns it with amusement. Clearly you're supposed to figure this out on your own. That's okay. You have a PhD. You won an improv contest in high school. You always pick smart stuff when people ask what you'd bring with you if you were stranded on a deserted island.

You start by shimmying which does nothing but make Cas chuckle. Then you use one hand, hesitantly at first to gauge if it’ll earn you another spank, to push the pants down, while the other continues to hold your shirt up. That elicits some progress but the denim is tight enough around your thighs that it's minimal.

Cas’ eyes flick between your hand at your pants, your breasts and your eyes, on a loop. Like there’s so much for him to see and he doesn’t want to miss a second of it. He’s watching your face, though, when you figure it out. When you get what he expects of you and his hard cock twitches when you do.

You realise what your only option is and you kind of want to scream. You want to tell Cas that he’s supposed to shove you on the bed and fuck you hard and gag you _himself._ He’s not supposed to be sitting comfortably as he watches you put his shirt in your own mouth. It’s so embarrassing like this, degrading almost, like you're presenting yourself to him. You do it anyway and obeying sends a thrill through your entire body, but it’s nothing compared to what you feel when he hums in approval.

You get the pants off, without flourish and you wonder if you're supposed to fold them neatly like you've read some doms have their subs do. _Some doms have their subs do._ You decide just to drop them on the table and Cas doesn't object.

With that done you lift your hands to take the shirt out of your mouth but Cas says, “No.” So you stop, making him grunt, palming his erection for the first time.

You want to say something, want to beg Cas to stop looking at you like he is. Hungrily when his eyes rake over your body but with adoration when they're on yours. You're holding your shirt up though and can’t say much, so you focus on just doing that.

He turns you, then, a full three-sixty, nice and slow. His hands brushing your skin at all times as he spins you. Heat rises in the places where his touches and eyes linger.

“God, so pretty, so perfect.”

You feel impossibly small in his large hands, like something precious to be cherished.

When you're facing him again, he doesn’t waste a second to stand. It’s so sudden that you gasp, the shirt slipping from your lips. You scramble to pick it up and hold it in your mouth again.

Cas smirks at you from above, from where he towers, but it doesn't reach his eyes that are blown with lust. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky with you.

You wonder if he’s going to punish you. If he’s going to bend you over the table and smack your ass and fuck you from behind. You wonder why the idea is so appealing to you. If it's sick that it is. Then you remember him saying it's not a punishment if you enjoy it and you wonder what a punishment would look like.

You’re nervous again and it makes you realise that you stopped being nervous somewhere along the way. You don’t really have the time to be proud, though, because you're too busy watching Cas with wide eyes. You’re not sure you're ready for what might come next. You’re not sure you're ready to deal with the fact that you've let him down.

You've only just started too. This is the longest morning of your life but Cas hasn't really done anything yet. He’s just easing you into it. This is probably boring to him. Yet, you’ve managed to fail him.

He gives you a soft smile- he’s not upset- and just like that your worries dissipate, to be dealt with at another time.

“Take your shirt off,” He says.

The resistant part of you, the part that talks back and gives just as good as she gets, glares at him because what was the point of even keeping it on?

You got good at just doing and he doesn’t want you to start overthinking things again. He thinks the more you do this, the more you obey, the more you get used to doing as you’re told, the easier it’ll become for you to stop shying away and accept that you like it. You obviously like it, fuck he hasn’t really done anything yet and he’s got you preening. He’s got you looking at him with your big eyes, eager to please. Well, not right now. Now you’re glaring because you’re thinking too much. “Now.” He orders.

You get it. The point is that he wanted you to keep the shirt on. And now he doesn’t anymore. Or maybe the point is that he doesn’t need a point. So you take the shirt off and place it on top of the pants you’ve already removed.

You’re both in nothing but your underwear after that but Cas is so obviously the one in control. He places a hand on your shoulder and, with the other, cups your left breast- the same one he kissed and licked and bit earlier. He’s looking in your eyes while he brushes your nipple with his thumb almost absentmindedly. It makes you all too aware of how he hasn’t paid your right breast any attention at all.

You decide to remedy the situation but as soon as your hand lifts his leaves your shoulder to catch your wrist. His thumb doesn’t even stutter.

“You said I was allowed to touch.” You complain.

“No, I said I’d tell you when you aren’t. Right now, I’m forbidding it.”

“Okay, Cas.” It’s easy, this time. He lets go of your wrist and you drop your hand back to your side and doing so is _easy._ It’s simple this way. _Obeying._

“That’s it,” He croons appreciatively.

He leans down and kisses you softly. His plush lips feel so heavenly against yours that you can’t spare a thought to realise that you haven’t kissed since this started. What a fucking crime. Your eyes close but so do his so you think it’s okay. His hand- the one that isn’t still on your breast teasing you torturously- is gentle on your cheek.

When he pulls away, it takes you a moment to regain your bearing and open your eyes. He says, “Good girl.”

You feel yourself throb between your legs and you know he feels you shiver in his hands.

“I want you to do a couple things for me, okay?”

“Sure.” You say, dazed from the kiss, dazed from the _good girl._

Cas considers, for a moment, correcting your word choice, but he decides to let it go, for now. Mostly because he wants to get you used to doing more simple tasks before you two can move on to _more._

“Take both checklists and the pens that we used,” He starts, making you frown. What’s this about? “Put the pens back in their places, put the new checklist in the top drawer on the right hand side and shred the old one. In that order, please.”

 _What?_ You think. You say, “Okay.” You don’t think your lucidity has returned to you completely yet.

You step away from him and it physically pains you when his hands fall away from your body. You turn and take a step before you still.

Cas knows you. You’ve been together for about three months which isn’t a lot at all but he does _know_ you. So he knows that you’re not hesitating because you’re nervous. Or because you’re shy. Or because you’re unsure of yourself. You’ve already come a long way. He knows that you’d readily do what he tells you in this moment because he saw it your eyes. Which means, the reason that you stopped is because-

“Pens, top right drawer, shredder.” He says.

“Thank you, Cas.”

You’re off collecting the five items from the table, making your way to the couches to drop your red pen and then heading to the office area. It’s around that time that the reality of what’s happening hits you. You’re almost naked and walking around in Cas’ apartment. It isn’t a first, but this isn’t you not bothering with a shirt when you run to get water from the kitchen. This is you naked _for_ Cas, in his apartment with the all-windows-back-wall, clutching not one but two BDSM non-contracts to your chest. You think you might be on fire. You want to come so badly.

You make it to his desk and now you don’t have to think about what you’re doing, you just have to do it. So you place the two blue pens in the pen holder, which you scoff at because none of his other pens are in it; they’re scattered instead. Next you place the document in the correct drawer. There’s blank note pads in there. It’s possibly the only compartment of the desk that isn’t in total disarray. It kind of makes your heart flutter that that’s where he wants to keep _your_ _document._

Next, you go to the shredder. You bend over to plug it into the wall, too far gone to even bother blushing at this point. Besides, you have a nice ass. Your new found control over your blood flow is short lived though because as you stoop to the ground, the fabric of your underwear slips from where your buttcheeks were holding it. Now you’re blushing. You’d been walking around with the world’s smallest wedgie but a wedgie nonetheless and in full display for Cas to see.

You faintly hear him laughing in the distance and you faintly want to punch him but you just dutifully pick the staple out of the pages and feed them to the machine. It whirs quietly and when it finishes you turn it off, unplug it, toss the staple in the trash and turn back to Cas.

He’s sitting back down again so he’s partly hidden by the table, but the way his arm moves lets you know that he’s stroking himself. You barely catch your breath and Cas says, “Come here.”

You pad across the floor, force yourself not to scurry. You know that Cas can tell because he laughs another quiet laugh.

When you’re in front of him again, he looks at you for a long moment, still pumping his cock lazily. He says, “What do you want?”

You surprise the both of you when you don’t even pause to say, “Whatever you want.”

Cas’ hand stutters on his dick. He still doesn’t know how he got so lucky as to have you stumble into his life. “That’s not the answer I’m looking for.”

Your eyes track the movement of his hands. “I didn’t think there were wrong answers,” You say quietly but with a teasing edge.

“Dishonest ones are wrong. One’s that don’t actually answer the question are wrong too. Tell me what _you_ want, never what you think I want to hear.”

“I- I wasn’t trying to please you- I mean I _was,_ but it’s not not true.” You lick your lips when his thumb picks up the bead of precome from his slit to drag it down his length.

“Do you want to be good for me?”

“Y-yes.”

“What do you want right now?”

“Want to feel you,” You mumble, looking up from his cock to look at him. His eyes startle you, they’re more black than blue.

“Come ’ere.”

He helps you so that you straddle his thighs, his dick at attention between the two of you, and pulls your hips down so that your ass rests on his knees. He regrets it a little, because feeling you squirm is distracting him in all the good ways.

He takes your hands from his shoulders, where you had put them, and brings them behind your back. “Like this,” He says as he wraps your fingers around the opposing elbow. You do the same with the other and he nods in approval.

He gives your left nipple- always your left nipple- a quick bite, hard enough to make you jump, hypothetically since his hands are on your hips again and they keep you in place, but not hard enough that it hurts.

“I want you to move with me.”

You nod a bobble head nod and Cas lets out a little laugh. You’re not even bothered.

You shuffle forward at the insistence of his hands until your crotch is against his cock, trapping it against his stomach. The fabric of your panties is the only thing between you, his boxers having been pushed down below his balls when he started touching himself.

You mean to move, just a little bit, but Cas’ hands stop you. _I want you to move with me,_ he said.

With your eyes fixed on his shoulder, you say, “Sorry.” It’s so quiet that Cas wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t in his lap.

“S’okay. Can you feel me, now?” He lifts his hips the tiniest amount but you’ve been so still, just pressed against each other, that the sensation is everything. You _do feel him._ You feel the hard pressure of him against you slit, against your clit. You feel your entrance contract and a fresh flow of _wet_ escape you.

“Yes, Cas. I can feel you.” You don’t mean for your voice to sound as wrecked as it does but you don’t care.

“Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

You meet his eyes then, curiously more than anything else.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He says. “I might ruin you, baby.” He says. “Gonna make you feel so good you don’t even know.” He says.

You look at his mouth now, because you can’t bear to look at the twin rings of blue anymore, not while he says these things. You watch his lips form the words and you concentrate, with everything you’ve got, to not start grinding on him because he wants you like this. He wants you still.

“Look at you. Doing so good for me. Arms behind you for me. Breasts pushed out for me. So fucking wet, I can feel it through your underwear, _for me._ ”

“Cas,” You whimper. Or maybe you moan. You don’t think it matters.

Cas just hums, like he’s content to stay like this forever. You think he might just make you, and you _would_ , but you want so much- want more- want _him._

“Cas, k-kiss me, please.” You’re blushing again, brighter than before, maybe brighter than you have all day.

The last and only time you asked someone to kiss you, really _asked_ someone to kiss you, not a sexy growl of a _kiss me_ where your own lips were pressed against theirs before the words were even out, was sophomore year of high school. You’d asked your closest friend, at the time anyway, because you wanted to get your first kiss over with. It was embarrassing then and it’s embarrassing now.

It’s worth it, you decide, because Cas hums again and you feel the vibrations of it as he slots his lips against yours. It’s soft for only a moment before it gets hungry. You’re both _hungry._

Your tongues don’t battle for dominance, like you’ve read they might, because you just give. You just let Cas take whatever he wants and you accept whatever he gives you and it feels _good_. It feels good everywhere. You feel the kiss trill through you. From your nervous system, to the surface of your skin. Everything tingles- especially your left nipple- and when Cas hums again, into the kiss, so does your entire body. You don’t think it could get better than this, you don’t think you can _feel_ _better than this_ but then Cas moves your hips and you have to pull away to let out a moan that’s both guttural and high pitched.

For a moment you think it might be too much, too much sensation, too much good, too much for you to feel all at once, to process. Then, your mind quiets back down and it’s just you and Cas and his hands on your hips moving you how he wants to move you. Your hands grip your elbow tighter out of a conscious fear that you might let go unconsciously.

You lean back in for another kiss, your moaning now manageable, a string of sighs more than anything else, but Cas leans back, content in you watching come apart for now.

“Like this,” He says, not for the first time.

He rocks your hips very deliberately, a certain tempo, a certain pressure, and then lets go of you. Your movements falter for a moment, but you get what he wants and you’ll be damned if you don’t deliver.

You’ve done this before. Well, not _this_ , but you’ve been on top with Cas before and this isn’t so different. Okay, it’s very different in very many ways but it’s familiar enough that you don’t feel like you’re floundering.

You replicate the motion he showed you as best you can and try not to stray from it. You try not to bear down harder even if you’d feel him against your clit more if you did. You try not to grind faster even if it means that it might just make you come. You try, you try, you try and it’s worth it when Cas says, “My good girl.”

You make some sort of sound you’ve never heard before and Cas says, “Phenomenal.”

“ _Cas, please._ ” You’re begging now. You’re doing your best to move like he wants- even if he wants it too damn slow-, doing your best to keep your eyes from closing. You’re doing your best and begging.

“Use your words.” His tone is harder than you expect and you know there’s no room for negotiation.

“I want to feel you.” You echo yourself.

“You said you do feel me. Were you lying?” He’s teasing you, you _know_ that he is but you’re so desperate you still cry out to rectify.

“No, Cas, I-” You drop your forehead to his shoulder. It makes your- your _humping_ \- because that’s what you’re doing- more awkward but you don’t care. “I want to feel you _more_.”

He lifts your head so you’re looking at him and his hands on you- even if they’re just on your face- is a goddamn gift from God.

“Please, please, please, Cas.” You’re a mess and you’re not crying but there must be tears on your cheeks because Cas is wiping them away.

You don’t know if it’s enough, if what you’ve said is enough for him, but Cas must think so, or he takes pity on the mess that you are, because he helps you along. Helps you with the words.

“Do you want to move these out of the way?” He pulls on the waistband of your underwear and lets it snap back to your skin, one hand still cradling your head, his fingers buried in your hair.

You lean into the touch and you say, “Yes, Cas. Please, Cas.”

“Okay, baby.”

Cas is nothing if not true to his word. He moves the fabric to the side and you both hear the sound of it unsticking from your lips. You’d have blushed, but during the next upward rocking of your hips Cas slips into your slit. You’re so wet that the glide is something else. Who has time to blush after that?

He’s rubbing directly against your clit now. He presses along the length of you pussy and it’s the dirtiest grind you’ve ever been apart of.

“Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas,” You chant. _Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas,_ you pray.

Cas says, “Fuck, that’s it. So perfect- _shit_ \- so _good_.” -You sob, here.- “You’re-”

Something is ringing again. Similar to before and it wasn’t in your head before so it mustn't be in your head now either. Your eyes widen. “Cas, no!”

Your hand darts out to catch his wrist. He glares at you so suddenly that you physically cower and return your hands behind your back.

“I’ll only answer if it’s Dean,” He promises.

He turns the phone over in his hand, so the screen is facing up and you both slump when you see the name and picture of the one and only Dean Winchester.

The look he gives you is apologetic. He swipes his thumb over the screen and stops your hips you hadn’t even realised were still moving.

“The school better be- No, screw that if the school is burning you still don’t need to be calling- Charlie?”

Cas pulls you closer, nuzzles into your neck for a moment and it’s exactly the comfort you need after your last mishap.

He leans back, out of necessity, to answer the frantic-sounding woman on the phone. You can just barely make out her voice, but you’re getting a distinct vibe of hysteria in her long Charlie Ramble TM.     

“Bradbury, get a hold of yourself. I already told Dean that I backed it up.”

He switches ears to free up his right hand and pinches your- left- nipple playfully. You swallow down a yelp but you can’t help the way you grind against him. He pinches you again, but this time in warning. You nod at him, a promise to be good, and he gives you a light tweak. He licks his thumb, presses it against the hard bud and you shudder out a breath, your head falling back.

“You did _what_ to the server?”

His hand leaves your breast to draw you back a few inches, so that his cock isn’t wrapped in your pussy on either side. He sits up straighter, gives the call most of his attention but he keeps a hand at your spine, to steady you in the commotion.

“Forget how much the machine’s gonna cost the department, Charlie, that data took the entire semester to collect and the research can’t move forward without it. Tell Dean- _No._ Tell Dean, we’re not going to salvage what we can, we’re getting it all back.”

He looks at you then and the only way you can describe it is mournful.

“Yeah, I’m on my way give me twenty, thirty- maybe forty- fuck, Charlie, I’ll be there soon, okay?” He hangs up.

He keeps looking at you like it’s tearing him apart to do so.

“What happened?” You ask, quietly.

“The LPA’s built in memory got wiped during maintenance and Dean doesn’t know what happened to the back up and Charlie used the server I backed up the back up on to orga- It doesn’t matter. How are you?”

“Euh, I’m good, Cas… Are we going to get the show on the road or do you have to go right away? You told Charlie up to forty minutes and I think that’s plenty of time-”

Cas shakes his head, looking just as torn as before.

You sigh. “Yeah, okay, it’s fine. Well, it’s not fine, I’m fucking aching ‘cause I want you so bad, but I get it.”

Cas laughs quietly and stops you from getting up and off him. “There’s that switch again.” He undoes your hands from behind you and brings them to the front, rubbing the sides of them like he’s trying to stimulate blood flow you haven’t lost. “You did so well, sweetheart. You were so good.”

You blush and scratch the back of your head, trying to ignore the tingle between your legs. “Euh, thanks Cas.” You move to get up again. He stops you _again_ , this time pulling you to his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You sigh deeply, something settling inside of you. Your head rests on his shoulder and you watch his throat move as he talks.

“I knew you would be. Knew you’d be so so good.” He pets your hair, slowly, letting you feel the movement, letting you draw comfort from it.

“Cas you gotta go.” You tell him.

“I’ve got a bit of time.”

“Then why aren’t you fucking me?”

“I’ve got time for this.”

“But-”

“Don’t argue with me, baby. Okay? Just sit here with me for a minute.” He says.

You say, “Okay, Cas.”

 

You just sit there in his arms, with him crooning sweet words in your ear, against you hair, into your mouth, for half an hour. Cas’ erection goes down eventually and your _want-need_ does too, but your thighs and Cas’ end up slick with your wetness. He asks you, in between soft murmurs, what you have planned for the day. You tell him that you want to put the results of the assignments you finished grading the night before in the system and that you need to work on a powerpoint for a seminar you’re giving to undergrad freshmen next week. He asks if you have everything you need here. You say yes. He asks if you want to stay.

You don’t have the key to Cas’ apartment, so when you’re left alone at his place, whether it’s just while he runs an errand or he has a full day scheduled and you’ve slept over and he gets going before you wake, it’s with the knowledge that you won’t be leaving until he returns. You can’t, not without leaving his place unlocked for the world to break into. Or _not_ break into, as it happens.

You say yes.

You two go to his shower and Cas just barely stands under the water long enough to run his loofa over his body quickly before exiting. By the time you step out, wearing his bathrobe (he uses a towel when you’re there), Cas is already dressed in his usual garb. Today, it’s dark jeans, a navy sweater with the white collar of a dress shirt peeking out and, of course, one of his many tweed jackets. It’s a good combo and you tell him so, leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom.

He looks up from where he’s slipping on his shoes, by the front door.

“Good, you’re out.” He says. _Good._ It’s strange hearing that word in any other context now. There’s nothing imposing about him in this moment. No more than his usual self anyway. Cas does know how to occupy a room and commandeer your attention. “Come here.” He reaches out for you even as he unhooks his tan trench from the coat stand. It’s not an order. It’s not even the way he was coaxing you into action before. He just wants to say goodbye.

You shuffle to him and, when you’re close enough, he tangles his fingers in your wet hair and holds the back of your head, pulling you the rest of the way to him and into a kiss. It’s long and hard and, you think, meaningful. When it ends, he presses your foreheads together. It takes you a moment to finally open your eyes and when you do, you find his still shut. Eventually, like he can’t bear to do it, he drags himself away from you and scoops up his leather messenger bag.

“You’re going to be alright?”

You scrunch your nose at him in a way you know is unattractive and say, “Sure, Cas. I’ve been here alone before.”

“Yeah but you- Nevermind. Okay. Call me if anything comes up.” You fix his lapels as he speaks in a serious tone.

“Think I’ll manage, but you got it, Cas.” You give him a peck and when you draw back he stops you to give you another.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” He says.

“Cas, it’s fine. We’ll get each other off later.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” He opens the door.

“Take your time.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” He says again and then he’s gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://fanforfanatic.tumblr.com/).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You asked me to fuck you with my fingers, correct?”
> 
> Your breath hitches. “Yeah, Cas.”
> 
> “And what did I do?”
> 
> When Cas raises an unamused brow at you, you shift and mumble, “You fucked me with your fingers.”
> 
> “And what did I ask you?”
> 
> “To not move.”
> 
> “Did you do that?”
> 
> You shake your head but seeing Cas’ hand lift you quickly say, “No, I didn’t.”
> 
> His hand falls gently back to you, even rubs your thigh soothingly, spreading more of your slick onto your skin. You shiver beneath him.
> 
> “So you understand then, that you can’t be getting what you want, right?”

You lock the door after him and let out a massive breath. You lean on the wall for a little while, waiting for the shit storm to hit. Waiting for the panic. For the embarrassment. For the _What the fuck just happened?_ It doesn’t come. You wonder if it’s normal that you liked what you and Cas did so much. If it’s normal to enjoy- not just enjoy but relish- following orders as much as you did. But that’s the extent of the ramifications.

You’ve had wilder sex than this. Hell, you’ve had wilder sex than this with Cas. _Hell,_ you didn’t really even get to the sex part. It was freaking frottage at the most. But. _But._ It was so intense. Every little thing felt massive, felt like the only thing, until the next thing. Then, that became the only thing.

You were nervous (really fucking nervous) in the beginning, but it definitely got easier. You hadn’t been able to get up from your chair when he first asked you to, but by the end you were under his damn thumb. (Your hand drifts to your left breast, then, though you don’t feel it through the thickness of the robe.) When you managed to do what Cas asked of you, it made the next task less daunting. At some point you stopped even thinking about it but you think that had more to do with how much you wanted to come. Probably.

You sigh again. No trainwreck for now. To keep it that way you know that you need to avoid thinking of just how pathetic you were at times. Begging and pleading, choking on your own words.

“Nope nope nope. Not going there.”

You trudge to the kitchen, realising just how thirsty you are and down a glass of water. You fill it up again, waiting patiently for the water distributor in the refrigerator door.  You take another few sips and leave it on the counter.

You go find your discarded clothes next. You pull on your jeans, forgoing underwear, and smell the shirt you had borrowed from Cas. It didn’t smell like sex or sweat or debauchery like you thought it might but you decide to get a fresh one anyway. You head back to the bathroom, the one that’s in Cas’ room and, once you pick up your panties and Cas’ underwear from the floor, drop them and the t-shirt in the laundry basket. You hang up the bathrobe and return to the bedroom.

You put on the bra you’d had yesterday and go to his dresser. The undershirts (and the socks) are in the second drawer. You open the first. The sight of the toys is too much too fast and has you slamming the drawer shut. You’re not a fucking prude, okay? You own toys. You didn’t feel embarrassed when you went and bought them in the store (ordering online is for wimps). You dirty talk as much as the next guy. Better. You really have a mouth on you when you get going in general. You’re a rambler. An excessive talker. That transfers into sex.

Usually.

You had your tongue caught in your throat with Cas earlier today, because it’s not the same. It’s just _not._ Cas wanted you to say _things_ and it was so out there. Not the words being said, but the saying of the words. Usually, when you’re saying the nasty while doing the nasty, you don’t see the other person staring at you like they’re holding back from ravaging you. Usually your head is pressed into a pillow where the words are muffled and your eyes are closed. Or the other person’s head is between your legs and you’re not maintaining constant eye contact. Usually, you’re so far gone by the time your lips get loose that you can’t be bothered feeling embarrassed. Can’t be bothered filtering any of it. It was different this morning, though.

Just like these toys are different. These toys aren’t in an old shoebox under your bed. They aren’t the alternative to your hand. These toys are full of Cas. Hand picked by Cas. Thoughtful and careful choices made by Cas. _Rebuilt my collection_ , he’d said. He placed them here, in this drawer that has _dividers._ He organised them, probably _re_ organised them when all the dildos didn’t fit in one section, decided to put the butt plugs there instead or some other arbitrary shit that happens when people are figuring out storage. Point is these are _Cas’_ . Meaning, he wanted to use them on someone in very specific ways and now he wants to use them on you. And you’re going to let him. _You’re going to let him._

So, yeah, these toys are different and it’s a little hard to look at them. The world can bite your sweet ass.

You open the drawer again, just an inch and peek inside. There’s so many things in here, it’s full to the damn brim. You open the drawer more fully and force yourself to stare inside until you can stop your muscles from clenching. You don’t really take in most of what’s in there. You’re just- Exposure therapy. That’s what you’re doing, you realise. With a huff (once you’ve unclenched all your muscles), you close the drawer once more. You don’t need to be practicing psychology on yourself.

Except maybe you do. Shrugging on a new t-shirt from the second drawer you say, “I want you to touch me.”

Walking back to the kitchen you say, “Fuck me, Cas.”

After a sip of water you say, “Fuck me, Cas, please.” And then, “Please fuck me, Cas?” You wonder if there’s a grammatical preference for the order of the words. You shrug and head to the coat stand with your water. You’d left your satchel bag at the base of it, last night.

“Yes, I want you to take my underwear off. Yes, I want to stop being such a fucking loser. Would I like to not suck? Sure!”

You plop down onto the couch and pull your computer from your bag. You get about an hour of work done, taking care of the grades first, then diving into the powerpoint. You are the newest member of the faculty, at least as far as the physics department is concerned, so you get a lot of the tasks the people with seniority don’t want. Like hosting a seminar for confused freshmen who haven’t declared their major. You don’t mind it so much. You figure everyone’s gotta pay their dues.

After that first hour, you have to consciously stop yourself from researching dominant and submissive relationships. Information is power, but information can also get inside your head. Well, obviously that’s where information goes, but, whatever, you get what you mean.

You think what you glimpsed while filling out the checklist is enough to tide you over. You know that you can ask Cas questions, in any case, and he probably has trustworthy resources if ever you want to delve in deeper. Jumping blindly nerves first in the wild sea of the internet is not something you’re interested in doing when it comes to this. Still, you end up having to stop yourself from doing exactly that at least four times.

It’s when you’re trying not to cave for the fifth time that Cas decides to text you, like the saviour that he is.

_How are you feeling?_

_About what we did?_

_We’ll talk about that in person. How r u feeling rn?_

_I’m good?_ You type out.

Cas got weird after Charlie called and at the time your mind was sluggish so you hadn’t caught on, but you know now that Cas was doing aftercare. Which is sweet, really, but unnecessary. You weren’t going to have that thing that subs have where they feel wonky after a scene, because you aren’t a _real_ sub. Besides, you guys barely did anything, it probably doesn’t happen even to real subs unless there’s actual sex involved.

You continue typing: _Nbd._ _Getting hungry, you gonna be here for lunch?_

Cas’ answer is immediate. _Nbd??_

_No big deal, old man_

_So you’re alright?_

_Yes sir :p ;)_ You follow up with, _food?_

_I’m gonna be another two hours at least. Eat w/o me_

_Is the part.acc. data retrieved?_

_Working on it :(_ And then, _Should be fine tho. What are you doing?_

_Procrastinating, because im a model prof_

_You feel up to doing something for me? It can wait til im home_

You swallow. Are you up for it? Before, Cas was there to reassure you every time you thought you were in over your head. Cas isn’t here now. Then again, that also means you could freak out privately. And Cas’ eyes on you was thirty percent of the struggle.

_Baby? It’s nbd :P we can wait_

_Shoot_

_Ur sure?_

You type: _yeah, bruh, hit me with your best shot._ You erase it and type: _Wouldn’t say that I am if-_ You erase it and type: _Im sure cas_

_Ur perfect_

_I want you to go the dresser and open the first drawer_

_Take every single toy in your hands and decide if you’d like it used on you_

_Make a no pile on the bed_

_Pick the one from the yeses you’d like to try first and put it on top of the dresser._

You stare at the onslaught of texts for a minute. Or two. Or maybe a whole fucking year goes by. Absentmindedly, you turn the sound of your phone off, in case Cas decides to go on another texting spree.

_Do you understand?_

_Yea cas_

_Would you like to wait for me?_

You picture it for a moment, Cas sitting on the bed, grinning at you while you go through each and every item, probably as red as a tomato.

_No_

_Should I feel insulted?_

_Extremely so. I prefer when youre not around, i just rly like ur place_

_You’re cruel_

_Gottago deans got smt_

_Be good._

“Fuck,” You mutter, rubbing a palm against your left boob. “You be good, asshole.”

You shove your computer away like it’s what’s offended you and rise to your feet. In a Great Act Of Defiance, you decide to eat before doing what Cas asked. You’re a real rebel, alright.

You eat peanut butter on toast. You like that if the bread is hot enough the peanut butter melts a little. Then you eat one of the cannoli. And an apple. And a banana. And the leftover blueberries from breakfast. In fact, only once you’ve divested the kitchen of fruit (Castiel doesn’t keep junk at his place), do you go to the bedroom.

It mocks you. The drawer. It’s telling you that you’re a chicken shit and it’s right. You don’t need to be doing this. There’s literally no reason for you to do this. _Expect that Cas told you to._

You sigh. You signed up for this. You don’t regret it, either. You enjoyed it this morning. You know that you did. So just shut your whore mouth and get rid of the toys that freak you out. Christ, it’s not nuclear physics.

Honestly, it’d be easier if it were.

After your pep talk, things go relatively smooth. You start with the buttplugs because that’s simple enough, you’d discussed them first during the checklist. You toss the largest one he’s got on the bed because you’re not interested in dying. It’s the same for the dildos but you also remove one of the smaller ones, just because you don’t like the shape.

Once you do that, the rest feels like more of the same. You pick up each vibrator and then put them back down, trying not to feel silly for picking up the ones you’re sure you’ll keeping just by looking at them. You continue through the rest of the gizmos and gadgets calmly, only squirming when you get flooded with ideas of just how Cas might want to use them. It’s almost therapeutic.

As far as bondage items go, you get rid of everything that has patent leather because you don’t like how shiny it is and how very sex club dominatrix queen (or something) it looks. There’s enough of the matt leather that you don’t think it’ll be a problem. You get rid of the rubber restraints that are so stiff you think they’d cut into your skin. You get rid of the cuffs that have fuzzy fur on them, even if its softness surprises you. If you’re going to be tied up you want it to be with classy stuff. Not something tacky even if you can tell that the cuffs are really good quality.

You get rid of the actual whip he has. Kinky, fucker. You get rid of a small pizza cutter style knife that has blunt points. You get rid of a wooden ruler because if Cas wants to do a professor role play so help you God. (You put the ruler back in the drawer.) You get rid of a gag that’s shaped like a penis and after a bit of hesitation you keep the ring gag.

Despite the healthy pile of things you did take out, what’s left outnumbers it by far. You’re about to close the drawer, but something gnaws at you. You leave the room only to return with post-its and a pen, all stolen from Cas’ desk. You write _maybe_ on one and stick it on the ring gag. You write _never before_ on another and stick it on magnetic spheres that mostly confuse you. You write out one more post it for the compartment of nipple clamps: _Can’t really tell how intense these are, so we can work our way up?_ You black out the question mark because it’s not really a question, you decide.

You return the supplies to their places and settle on the couch again. Still, something gnaws at you. You go back to the drawer and remove the _maybe_ post-it from the ring gag. You’d said on the checklist that you weren’t sure about it and you trust Cas to keep that in mind. This time, when you return to the couch, it’s with a deeply satisfied feeling.

 

The indicator on your phone flashes and you find you have texts and two missed calls from Cas.

20 minutes ago: _How’s it going?_

19 minutes ago: _Are we having fun yet? ;)_

10 minutes ago: _Baby, I need you to tell me you’re alright_

7 minutes ago: _Answer me, now._

5 minutes ago: _I’m going to call, pick up._

4 minutes ago: _I need you to pick up, alright?_

2 minutes ago: _Im on my way_

“Shit.” You click on the icon of a telephone at the top of the text conversation and listen to it ring once before Cas answers.

“ _Thank, fuck. Are you okay? What are you feeling?_ ”

“Cas, I’m fine, seriously. I was, euh, I was, doing the thing, and I left my phone in the living room. No need to rush back.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief on his end of the line and it sounds like he slows down.

“I’m sorry, I freaked you out, Cas.” You say, guilt creeping up your spine. You had started to feel like you wouldn’t fuck up and yet...

“ _I’m on my way_.”

“Cas, I swear I’m fine.”

“ _We’re almost done here. The rest is pretty technical, anyway, so I’m going to leave Dean and Charlie to it. I’m fifteen minutes out._ ”

“A-Are you upset with me?” You just- you need to know. Need to prepare yourself.

“ _What? No? Baby,_ no _. I’m just- I’ll be there soon, okay?_ ”

“Okay, Cas.”

 

It’s barely ten minutes later that you hear the jingle of his keys outside. He doesn’t waste time at the door, dropping his bag, kicking his shoes off and slinging his coat in the general vicinity of the stand somehow all at once. Then he’s beside you on the couch, taking the water out of your hands, placing it on the table, and gathering you in his arms.

After a moment he pulls back so he can watch your face, which he holds in two large hands, while he asks, “How are you, baby?”

You grin at him. “Cas, I’m good. I see what you’re doing and, honestly, it’s overkill.” You all but stick your tongue out at him.

Cas searches your face for anything that might ring false. When he’s satisfied that you’re alright, he lets go of you and his eyes narrow playfully. “Overkill, huh?”

“Mhmm, if you’re not careful you’re going to drive me away with all this affection.”

“Is that so?”

“Yea-”

He pulls you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him (again). The position turns your entire body _on_ like some kind of pavlovian effect. Jesus, even the dog needed more than one run through.

You kiss, gently, then hard, then gently again and your arms wrap around his neck like they belong there.

“I was thinking about you all day.” He says.

“Liar. You were probably running around like a chicken with its head cut off worrying about the experiment.”

“That’s true but my mind kept being tugged back to this pesky thing I left at home.”

“Pesky? And here I thought I was just unbearable.”

He kisses you. “You’re both.”

“You’re very good to put up with me, then.” You kiss him.

“That’s also true. What I want to know is if you were good for me.”

Everything changes, then. His eyes are on yours, just like usually, and his voice is the same as ever, but it’s _different._ You take a deep breath. You can do this. You practiced like a loser. They’re just words.

“I was.” You say.

“You were what?”

You don’t even glare this time. You don’t huff in annoyance. You don’t even call him a prick in your own head. You just take another breath and say, “I was good.” And then, “For you.”

Cas’ heart fucking pounds out of his chest and breaks a rib on the way. “Show me.”

You lead the way to the bedroom, your hand in his as he trails behind you. You steal a few furtive glances over your shoulder and sometimes you’re met with soft eyes, other times with a look of mischief.

He settles you on the bed and spreads out your no pile. Your heart is racing and you think Cas hears it because he grips the back of your neck, tilts your head up, and kisses you. He goes back to examining what’s laid out but he doesn’t question any of it. When he’s done he scoops it all up in a canvas bag he gets from and returns to his closet.

Next he opens _the_ drawer and you know the huff of laughter is from the post-its. _Of course,_ he thinks, _you’re nothing if not thorough._

He looks around the room, after that. The sun beams through the two windows on either side of the bed. They’re narrow but start at the floor and go all the way to the ceiling so the light floods in easily. For a moment you wonder if he’s trying to choose what he wants to fuck you on. The space is minimally furnished so you don’t think it’ll take him too long to decide.

“Take out your phone.” He says from his place by the dresser, his tone serious, reprimanding.

“I- What?” Your brain short circuits. Did you screw up? No, you did good. You know you did, you picked up every single thing in that drawer and-

“Take out your phone.” He repeats, still stern but patient.

“Okay, yeah, okay.” You lean back, somewhat, to pull it out of your pocket and hold it out to him. What’s he going to do? Take a picture of the drawer and send it to everyone you know? _Look at all the things she wants used on her._ Of course he doesn’t want to do that. This is Cas. Not a creature straight out of purgatory.

Cas shakes his head at you. “Open it and go to our texts.”

Your hands move of their own accord.

“Read the instructions I sent you.”

“Okay?” You say, scrolling up. “You’re-” _perfect._ “I want you to go to the dresser and open the first drawer. Take every single toy in your hands and decide if yo- you’d like it,” You clear your throat, consider shooting Cas a pleading look, but ultimately continue, “If you’d like it u-used on you. Make a _no_ pile on the bed. Pick the one from the _yes_ -”

You stop, eyes wide and on Cas. “Cas, I-”

“Finish reading.” His eyes have darkened and he looks like a brewing storm in the sunny room.

“I- Okay,” You sigh. “P-pick the one from the _yes_ es you’d like to try first and put it on top of the dresser.”

“Did you do that?”

“No,” You say, looking down at the floor.

“Did you do what you were told?”

You meet his eyes and whimper, “No, Cas.”

“Do you have an explanation?”

You’d forgotten but you say, “I, um, I just wanted you today?”

Cas’ demeanor steels even more. “Did you just lie to me?”

“What? No! I mean yes- I mean I didn’t mean to- I- I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t, I…” You trail off but by then you’ve crossed the room and plastered yourself to him. “I’m sorry.” You say again.

There’s a moment where Cas doesn’t say anything. It’s because he’s reeling a bit. You’ve taken to this so much more than he could have imagined, even if you’re still struggling with that fact internally. You can’t tell, though. In fact when Cas doesn’t say anything, you think you’ve really gone and ruined things.

Before you can spiral too much, Cas pets your hair and says, “It’s okay.”

He moves you away, even as you’re reluctant to give into his hands, so he can look at you.

“It’s okay, even good girls make mistakes, okay?” He’s gentle but very much in control.

You bristle. You don’t want to hear _good gir-_ those words right now. “I’m sorry.” You repeat.

“I know you are.” With a grin that soothes you more than anything else has, he says, “We’re going to find a way for you to apologise alright?”

You nod. “Okay, Cas.”

“Okay,” He echoes then turns you both so he’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, and you’re facing the drawer. “Open it.”

You rush to comply.

“Good.” He squeezes your shoulders. “Now, pick the first toy you’d like to try.”

You nod but you don’t move. You don’t know what the right choice is. You don’t want to take something too safe, in case he thinks it’s a sign that you’re not all in. _Because you are all in_ , you realise. You also don’t want to take something too-

“I’m going to repeat something I told you earlier, alright? Wrong answers are the ones that are lies and the ones you give because you think they’re what I want to hear. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, Cas.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Pick the toy you’d like to try first.”

You take out a pair of leather cuffs. You don’t necessarily prefer them over everything else, but it’s a place you feel comfortable starting. You place them on the dresser, just like the original instructions had said and you hear Cas grunt softly behind you. He presses his body against yours and you feel him, half hard.

“You’re perfect,” He whispers in your ear making you tremble in his hands.

“M’not.”

Cas turns you so that you face him and firmly says, “I decide.”

You don’t know what to do, but you’re not about to argue with him. “Okay, Cas.”

“Good. Kiss me.”

You asked him just that earlier today but right now Cas is telling you. So you do the only thing you can do and kiss him.

When he pulls away, he steps back from you entirely. “Lift your shirt up.”

You grunt. “Cas, not again.”

He grins at you, glad that you’ve shaken your slump. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Fine.” You lift up your shirt so that you’re holding it under your chin.

“What’s this? No, no, that won’t do.” Cas looks almost offended to see the undergarment. “Take it off and take your bra off. Now.”

“Fuck yeah,” You half cheer, tossing your shirt to the ground followed by your simple white bra. You move your hands to the button of your pants but wait, expectantly looking at Cas.

He laughs. “Are we eager, babe?”

“We’re horny, _babe._ ”

“Take ‘em off.” He says.

“Yes, _Sir_.” You say sarcastically, dropping and kicking your pants off faster than you knew you could.

Cas would be impressed, if he wasn’t so distracted by the fact that you aren’t wearing underwear. And if his eyes weren’t narrowing at you for giving him lip.

He stalks over, very much how a predator would, and places his hands on either side of you, flat against the still-open drawer. He slides it shut backing you up against the dresser.

He leans down so his lips are near your ear, just a breath away from brushing against it. “You already have two things to apologise for,” He says, his voice deep, rough. “Do you want to make it three?”

You’re completely naked between the tweed clad arms of this handsome man who isn't _touching_ you but who is so so close it's making you a little dizzy.

You say, “No, Cas.”

“Get on the bed, on your back.”

You expect Cas to watch you obey, he’s always watching you, but he shrugs off his jacket and walks into his closet instead.

You wait patiently once you’re settled. Well, you don’t really ever settle, placing your hands by your sides and then on your stomach and then by your sides, again, but you wait. You’re rewarded for it because when Cas steps out of the closet, he’s sans sweater, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone, and he’s rolling up his second sleeve, exposing his forearms and looking so damn good it might be a sin. It’s got your hips shifting involuntarily and you decide you're going to ask the Human and Legal Resources at the school if it's at least against the law to look so damn good.

If you missed Cas’ eyes before, which you realise that you did, you don’t anymore because they’re on you now, intent as ever. He moves to stand by the foot of the bed and places the tip of a finger in the crook just behind the knob of your ankle.

He watches your face while he _drags_ just the tip of his finger up over the curve of your calf. He watches you bite- chew- your lip as his finger dips in where the back of your knee does. He watches your lashes flutter from trying to keep your eyes open- he loves that he doesn’t even have to tell you to- while he traces the shape of your thigh.

He glances down, just for a second, to see the way his finger presses into your flesh. Then, he’s right back to watching your face as your breath hitches because his finger is making its way up your body but also towards the center of it. Not enough, though. Not there. He smirks at you like the cat who got the creme tapping your hip bone twice almost chastising you for your dirty thoughts.

He follows the curve of your hip, of your waist, of the mound of your left breast. He circles your nipple once, twice, and it either hardens or it had already puckered. You don't know. You're not sure you care. You just want to be touched.

Cas knows, so he touches you. He pinches your nipple but there's no bite. It’s more like he’s holding it between his thumb and forefinger and it’s weird but mostly it's not enough.

“Cas,” You breathe out.

“Tell me, which toy you chose to have used on you first.”

Does he have to use all the fucking words? Is he trying to make you self combust? He could have said _what did you pick_ or _which item did you choose,_ but nooo Cas has to go and be an asshole. _Asshole_.

“You saw what I- Leather c-cuffs, leather cuffs!” You’re quick to rectify when cas squeezes your nipple.

Your hips buck off the bed and your heels dig into the mattress and you expect Cas to let go but he just continues to hold your nipple with the same pressure.

“Ask me.”

“W-wha-” He squeezes just a little harder and _jesus fucking christ_ you feel it between your legs. “Alright! Okay, jeez. Cuff me- _fuck._ ” The pressure increases more as he twists his fingers this time. It’s a little painful but it’s mostly _not_ and that’s freaking you out. “Please u-use the leather cuffs to r-restrain me.” You say, writhing all the while and Cas only has the tips of two fingers on you. Not even in you.

“To what?”

“What? Cas I don’t know, I don't know okay, that’s,” You inhale because you haven't been getting all the oxygen you need. “That’s my real answer, okay? I don't- Whatever you want. Cuff me to whatever you want. I don’t _care._ ”

“Hmm.” Cas ponders for a moment, eyes on yours. “No.”

He steps back, taking his touch along with him and you want it _back_ as torturous as it was. He goes to the dresser and puts the cuffs away.

“You disobeyed me earlier so you don't get the help. You’re going to have to restrain yourself.”

He’s back by your side when he says, “Arms up, hold the headboard.”

Your hands fly over your head, your fingers gripping the wood of the bed frame.

Cas brushes the back of his fingers over your cheek. “You’re going to be good for me, aren't you?”

You choke a little but you sigh out, “Yeah, Cas.”

Cas moves away from you again but this time it's to climb between your legs. He bends them at the knees and spreads them, making one hang off the bed. Then, very true to character, Cas looks.

He stares and when you squirm and try to close your thighs to try to hide yourself from his gaze, he holds them open.

“You won’t move.” He says without even glancing up. “You’ll let me look at you for as long as I’d like.”

“Why?” You complain and you hate how whiny you sound.

He grins then, sparing you a once over. “Because I want to and because I said so.”

His hand drifts up your thigh in a feathery touch, but when he presses his thumb between your lips to pull one to the side it’s with a contrasting firmness. You fidget at the feeling and Cas’ other hand smacks your thigh, packing a bit of sting.

“What? I kept my legs open.” The words come out of your mouth and you feel like a whore in a brothel saying them.

“I told you not to move.”

“Like at all?” Your eyes widen. “How am I supposed to do that with you touching me and- and looking at me like that.”

He shrugs.

“Cas, c’mon, you’re killing me here.”

He hums and says, “ _La petite mort.”_

“What?”

Cas moves his thumb so it’s right against your entrance and tugs gently at the rim.

You sigh, enjoying the sensation and trying to keep your hips from participating.

Cas pushes the tip of his thumb, not even to the first knuckle, just inside of you.

You breathe deliberately. It feels good, he’s giving you so little but it feels _good._

“Cas,” You moan, a quiet little moan.

Cas wishes he’d already taken his pants off altogether but settles for undoing them with deft fingers, giving his straining erection some room.

He pulls his thumb out and you barely manage a grunt of disapproval before he’s pushing it back in, maybe a millimeter deeper than before. He rubs it along your opening and the slow pace of it all is absolutely maddening. Which you tell him.

“This isn’t just punishment, Cas. It’s damn torture.”

Cas looks away from where he’s working you over to give you a deceivingly confused look that’s all too knowing. “This isn’t punishment at all.”

“W-what? What do you mean?”

“This is your apology. I won’t be punishing you this time.” The hand on your thigh squeezes warningly. “Don’t think I’ll be as generous with my leniency beyond this point. I won’t tolerate you lying to me.” As an afterthought, because it is the lesser infraction in his eyes, he adds, “And I expect you to do as you’re told and not forget a task when you’re given clear directions.”

You nod a little too willfully. “But… Cas what you’re doing…”

He swivels his thumb and you just manage to keep from using your leverage on the headboard to take him in deeper.

“Are you not enjoying yourself?”

“No, I- I am, but-”

“Then it isn’t punishment.”

You nod, gasping as Cas draws his thumb out then pushes back in again and again, fucking you with it. Your chest heaves making it so that if Cas couldn’t hear your breathing, he can now see it. This time, when Cas pulls his thumb out, he glides it upwards to land and press on your clit.

“ _Fuck._ ” Your hips rolls, chasing the pleasure as sharp as it was.

There’s nothing for your hips to meet, though, because Cas’ hand is gone.

“No,” He says. “Don’t move.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” You make promises you don’t know you can keep.

His thumb returns to your clit but he also sinks his pointer finger into you. He goes so goddamn slow the feel of him is more agonising than not. You want more, you want so much more.

“Good,” He says when your only movement is the tremors of your body.

His thumb rolls your clit at a calm and steady pace but with varying pressure. The finger inside you doesn’t move at all. At first, it’s okay. At first, what he gives you is enough, you struggle to remain still, but it’s enough. You murmur to Cas that it _feels so good_ and that he _always touches so well_. He’s got you panting and he’s got you forgetting to be embarrassed about it.

Then, minutes pass, however many, and you find yourself needing more. Needing _anything_ more. You find yourself begging Cas quietly.

“Please, please, please, Cas, please, I- _please._ ”

Cas needs to physically restrain himself because seeing you like this does things to him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to move, I want- please, Cas.” You thrash your head to the side, to keep from thrashing your hips, and press your face into the cool pillow.

So Cas moves but it’s as unhurried as everything else he’s done. He drags his index out, pressing along your upper wall all the while, then nudges it back in. Over and over and over and _you can’t._

“ _No,_ ” Cas snaps, taking his hand away and slapping your mound with it. It shocks you more than anything else but has you writhing on the sheets letting out a low groan nonetheless. Cas smacks your thigh this time, getting some of your wetness on it. His voice is deeper than usual, which you hadn’t thought was entirely possible. “I told you not to move.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You gasp when you manage to calm yourself. “I am, I’m sorry, Cas.”

“You asked me to fuck you with my finger, correct?”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah, Cas.”

“And what did I do?”

“It?” Even as you say the word you know it isn’t enough so when Cas raises an unamused brow at you, you shift and mumble, “You fucked me with your finger.”

“And what did I ask you?”

“To not move.”

“Did you do that?”

You shake your head but seeing Cas’ hand lift you quickly say, “No, I didn’t.”

His hand falls gently back to you, even rubs your thigh soothingly, spreading more of your slick onto your skin. You shiver beneath him.

“So you understand then, that you can’t be getting what you want, right?”

You suspect the question is rhetorical, but you don’t really end up pondering because Cas returns his hand to your pussy, thumb toying with your clit and finger buried inside of you. It seems contradictory to his words but when he doesn’t move inside of you, you get it.

“Cas, please.” You whisper. You strain your muscles to keep from shifting.

“Hmm? You want something?” He leans over you to place a teasing kiss on your lips.

“You know I do, come on, Cas.”

His tongue finds your right- _right!_ \- nipple.

“Cas please,” You take a deep breath. Cas likes it when you use words? You’ll give him words. “Finger me, Cas.”

He gives your breast a peck before leaning back. “That’s not going to be enough, sweetheart.”

“I won’t move, Cas. I promise. I’ll be- I’ll be-”

Cas smirks at you, his thumb unrelenting in its lazy circling of your clit. His other hand leaves your thigh to push his pants and boxer down enough so he can grasp his cock and stroke it leisurely. The sight has you moaning and purposefully _not_ moving. Cas does feel you contract around his finger though and he lets out a small laugh.

“You’re so needy, baby. You’re desperate for it aren’t you?”

“ _Yes, Castiel._ ”

His full name on your lips is a rarity and it has Cas grunting out a _fuck_ as he picks up the pace of the hand on his dick. The hand on you keeps torturing you just as slowly.

“What will you do to get it, hm? What are you going to do for me?”

You’re shaking now, but it’s a tremor that Cas can’t fault you for. “Anything, Cas.”

“Will you stay still for me?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Good.”

This time, Cas fucks you. His finger thrusts in and out of you at a rhythm that can get you there. A rhythm that builds you up and up with the help of his thumb still sparking pleasure out of you.

To help you not fuck up into his hand you chant his name, you probably cuss him out a little too, you might pray to God once or twice. Your fingers dig into the wood above your head and you think this is how beds are broken. You keep your eyes on Cas the whole time. Either locked with his or following the movement of his hand on his leaking cock.

Cas stops fingering you exactly once. It’s a horrible moment where you think you might have moved despite your best efforts and now Cas won’t give you more, _won’t make you come._ It’s a brief moment, though, and Cas just ends up pushing two fingers from the hand that had been working himself into you, curling them and going right back to his dick, using your wetness to slicken the way.

It’s so hot, it’s so fucking hot that your entire body flares up. Your clit fucking _twitches._ Then the hand that had been on you all along comes back. He uses two fingers to pump into your pussy and you only feel the stretch a little because of how soaked you are, but it’s enough, hurts just right.

“You’re going to come,” Cas says, as if you were possibly unaware. “I don’t want you to worry about-” He pauses to moan. “About moving when you do.”

You don’t even manage a full nod before your orgasm overtakes you. It’s a good one too, the kind that you think might be fading but then peaks again. Cas is saying something all the while but it’s only when you come down that you tune into the words.

“-so good. Look so good. Feel so good. So good for me. Fucking, perfect. You’re- _fuck!_ ”

Cas comes too, mostly on your stomach, some of it on your breast.

He leans back on his heels in his kneeling position to catch his breath but once he does his eyes are on you. You smile lazily up at him, still basking in the afterglow. Cas moves up your body, gives your left nipple a lick picking up a drop of come, then kisses you.

After a few moments, he slumps beside you and tugs you into his arms, bringing yours down, unbothered by the come he’s smearing between you. “You did such a good job, baby.” He tells you. “How are you feeling?” He brushes his fingers along your back soothingly.

You’re still sporting a silly grin when you tell him, “Really good.”

“That’s right, you did _really_ good.”

You knock his shoulder with barely any force. “No, Ass, I feel good. That’s what happens after you get off.”

“That is the general course of action.”

You can’t be bothered with thinking up a retort and simply nuzzle into his arms. “You did really good, too, Cas”

The hand at your back stutters for a fraction of a second. “Thank you,” He says.

You push yourself up to your forearms and you’re honest-to-god impressed that they don’t give out under you because your entire body feels like jello. “I mean it. Since this morning, you were really patient and I appreciate that.”

He kisses you, long and soft and then he says, “You want another shower?”

“Yes, please, but I don’t want to get my hair wet again.”

You two lay there for a long while before moving to get cleaned up.

 

Later, Cas lays on the bed in boxers, his arm slung above his head. The sight of him is distracting, all long lines and taut muscles stretched out along the mattress, so you focus on getting yourself dressed.

“Have you seen my socks,” You ask as soon as you’ve buttoned your jeans, bending down to pick up your bra and t-shirt.

“I put them in your boots last night, right before we went to sleep.” True, they’d been scattered in your haste to get in each other’s pants.

“Cool, thanks.”

Castiel watches you slip your clothing on and almost audibly grunts in objection. There’s a little bruising on your left nipple and it looks so good on you. He wonders if it’s too early for rules like _no bras in the house_.

“We need to talk.” He tells you, sitting up.

You’re tucking Cas’ undershirt in your pants when he says this. You look up at him curiously and tap the first drawer of the dresser behind you. “About this?”

“Yes, about how it was for you.”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” You glide over to him, sit on the bed, one foot tucked under you and the other on the floor, mirroring him. You’re close enough that he can place his hands on your hips so he does. “You said it was good, I said it was good.”

“I think we’re a little more clear headed now, I want to make sure that’s still how you feel about it. I want to know if you’re interested in doing it again, in pursuing this further.”

You grin at him. “I’m very,” You push him onto his back, again. “Very.” You straddle his hips. “Very.” You kiss his lips. “Interested.”

He grins back at you. “In that case…” Cas flips the two of you, so that he’s the one doing the straddling.

“No, no,” You laugh, smiling the kind of smile you can’t suppress. “I gotta get going, Cas.”

He lifts his head from where he’s kissing your neck and frowns. “You’re leaving?”

“Gotta. Singer wants a diagnostic report on the latest variable shift by wednesday and I’ve barely started looking at the results from the last test run. Files are back home too.”

Cas leans down so his body presses into yours more firmly. “Let me ask again, give you a chance to change your mind. You’re leaving?”

You chuckle and crane your neck to peck him. “Yeah, Cas.”

He grunts and rolls off of you so you can get up.

“I have to go water my elephant ear, too, it’s been a few days.”

Cas sits up quickly. “You’re supposed to keep the soil of that plant damp at all times.”

“Huh,” You say with a teasing look. “Guess you aren’t the botanical expert you fancy yourself after all. In the winter, they say to let it dry out for rest periods. Something about fertilization, or whatever. I researched it.”

 

Your studio is nothing like Cas’ place. The entire thing could fit in his bedroom. It’s ill lit with the one window and the hanging overlight that seems to perpetually be swinging at least a little. Whatever light does get in gets swallowed by the exposed brick of the walls.

The window is directly across your front door. Below it, there’s a low and wide filing cabinet that you also use as a side table. To the left there’s your bed and at its foot a trunk. There’s a door on each wall that form that corner of the room, one leads to the bathroom, the other, the one next to the entrance, to a closet.

To the right of the front door there’s a dining table for four pushed up against the wall, with two chairs tucked in. There are a couple things on it at the moment, including a reading light, because it’s where you eat but it’s also where you get work done. The wall that runs perpendicular to the table-desk-hybrid _is_ the kitchen. It’s lined with one long countertop that’s only interrupted by a sink, a refrigerator and a stove. In front of the very last cupboard, below the window, beside the filing cabinet, there’s the colocasia plant Cas got you, two months into the relationship. It’s more commonly called elephant ear plant or angel wings plant, because of the shape of the leaves.

You can afford a bigger place but you want to pay off your student loans as quickly as possible and rent seems like the best place to cut back expenses.

You kick off your boots and drape your coat over one of the chairs, then pick up a half full bottle from the table. You cross the room in roughly six steps and pour the water into the pot, cooing at it. You’d read a study that compared the growth and health of plants that received compliments daily and plants that were yelled at. You were skeptical of the results the article shared but figured you have nothing to lose.

You change into sweats but keep Cas’ shirt on and get to work. You get half of what Singer’s expecting of you done before switching tasks and finishing the powerpoint, even running through the presentation you’ve prepared once. It’s when you’re back on the report, with tabs that have nothing to do with it open on your computer, that Cas texts you.

_What are you doing?_

_Working on the part.obs. for singer (procrastinating)_

_You do that a lot._

_Aha are you going to call me a bad girl?_

Fuck, why would you say that? Here you are having a very normal conversation. Not everything is about sex no matter how much Freud disagrees. It takes Cas longer to reply.

_Would you like me to?_

You think for a moment before replying. _No_

This time his response is immediate. _Good, because you’re perfect._

_w/e ur lame_

_That’s just not true._ And then: _What are you wearing?_

_Ahahahahaha shut up Cas_

_:P did you eat?_

_Not yet. I kind of ate ur kitchen earlier_

_Come over, I’m making carbonara_

_Im starting to see a pattern_

_Really? Which one is that?_

_The data points to an undeniable correlation between you trying to feed me and you trying to have sex with me._

_Data doesn’t lie._

_:P I think im gonna crash early_

_Worn out huh? How did that happen?_ You can imagine Cas smirking as he wrote this text.

_This asshole where I work fifty shades of greyed me_

_Lucky guy. I bet he’s hung._

_His ego is definitely inflated. Gnight cas_

_Goodnight_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me with some feedback, if you'd like :)  
> Find me on [tumblr](https://fanforfanatic.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I would like to introduce a rule.” He says.
> 
> This has your chickpea-and-pepper-loaded spoon stilling in midair. “Okay.”
> 
> “It blurs a few lines so you will tell me if you are uncomfortable with it.”
> 
> “Okay, I’ll tell you.”

It’s been said that in high school, there are cliques- the jocks, the geeks, the theater kids, _the nerds_ \- but high school ends and everyone grows up and this, right here where you are, is where a chunk of the nerds end up. Academia.

The university is littered with them and the biggest of them all? The faculty.

“Yo.”

You look up from your desk at the person peeking their head into the doorway of the office you share with another professor (not that they’re ever around). “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Alright. Fine. Good. Really good. Great actually. You’re down to get some grub? For nourishment but mostly so I can tell you all about why I’m really great. Here’s a spoiler- or maybe a teaser- it has everything to do with the babe of a chick I met Saturday night.”

> **CHARLIE BRADBURY:** Big Data expert at the university. There isn’t an algorithme she can’t code [Yet.] Also, Queen of LARPing [literally], rambler extraordinaire, wild card on a night out. Will hack your devices to post embarrassing things on social media.

Charlie plants herself onto a chair and decides that the here and now is as good a place and time as any to start telling you about the events that occurred two nights prior. It’s kind of an incredible tale.

“That’s when she agreed to go home with me.”

“Damn, Charlie, she held out longer than I would have. You’ve got serious game.”

“I really really do.” She nods, her bright red hair bouncing agreeably.

“Do you still want to grab lunch?” You ask her, receiving and reading a text from Cas. “The boys are going to the faculty lounge on fourth.”

“Fshyeah, duh. My story’s not over!”

“There’s more?” You gather a few things from your desk and rise to your feet as Charlie bounces to hers.

“I told you how I seduced her, now I’m going to tell you how I rocked her world.”

You laugh. “Rocked her world, Charlie? Really?”

“It’s accurate so I said it.”

“I believe it. Lord knows I’ve heard enough of your sexual exploits to know that you deliver.”

“It’s just a shame Castiel snatched you up before I could put the moves on you.” She scrunches her face then and shakes the jitters out of her body.

“Your physical response to the thought is offensive,” you tell her with a laugh.

You and Charlie could never have been more than really terrific friends and you both know it.

“I need to head up to Singer’s for a minute before going downstairs,” you say.

“I’ll come with.”

 

“Come in,” you hear from the other side of the door you knock on. The voice is not nearly gruff- or perpetually bemused- enough to belong to Singer so you frown at Charlie who just shrugs.

Opening the door, you find-

> **CHUCK SHURLEY:** Headmaster of the university. Billionaire inventor who invested in and now runs the school. Looks much younger than he is. It’s uncanny. Eccentric and subscribes to unorthodox ways.

“I have issues with authority figures.” Still out of his sight, Charlie whispers to you and retreats.

“Mr. Shurley, hi,” You greet.

“Ah, my newest pupil.” He stands to shake your hand. “How is the semester coming along? Everyone been treating you well?” He leans against the Singer’s desk and crosses his arms.

“Yes, sir. Everything and everyone’s been great. Is Mr. Singer not-”

“Yes, I would suppose so. I heard talk about your involvement with Castiel Novak. Believed them to be rumours at first until I received an email from Sam in HLR.”

“Euh…” What do you say to that?

“Alright, Chuck, explain to me- Why are you here, kid?” The man, entering his own office, asks.

> **ROBERT [BOBBY] SINGER:** Head of the astrophysics division of the physics department. Expert on all things that are both surreal and real. [Outer Space, man. It’s dope.] Your direct superior. Lead on the study you’ve been assigned to assist. Tough as nails. Calls you kid patronisingly. [But sometimes when you’re feeling especially arrogant, you think he says it fondly and that he has a soft spot for you. You’re wrong.]

“I have the diagnostic report on the cardinality variable shift for the particle observer,” You answer, handing him the file. He likes to have a paper copy of everything, you’ve learned. “I’ve also uploaded it to your online server.”

“I need it by Wednesday.” He says.

“Yes.”

“It’s Monday.”

“Yes.”

“Right on time. Dismissed.”

 

You find Charlie at the end of the hall and make your way down to the fourth floor. The boys aren’t in the lounge yet so you suspect Cas and Dean walked to Sam’s building to cajole him into taking a break. It’s nearly two o’clock so the room is mostly vacant meaning the couches are up for grabs but the two of you settle down at one of the tables, anyway. Dean’s a messy eater and the stains in the more popular second-floor lounge are still there to prove it.

You’re eating chips you got from the vending machine and listening with rapt attention to Charlie’s story when the boys walk into the room. The head turn you make to gaze at them is almost in slow motion.

An impossible breeze comes out of nowhere and blows through the hair of one-

> **SAM WINCHESTER:** Top executive in the Human and Legal Resources department [HLR]. Likes long jogs in the park, playing frisbee with his dog, the justice system and Eileen from the Visual Arts department. [Not that he’ll admit it.] Knows the school bylaws forward and back and sideways and upside down and on fire and…

A mischievous look crosses Sam’s brother’s face as he overhears Charlie’s topic of choice.

> **DEAN WINCHESTER:** Experimental physicist with a background in mechanical engineering. His double major makes it so he can work on research full time and doesn’t need to don a professor hat like you. Very hands on with the equipment which makes him very coveted by the theoretical physicists but of course only the best can have him as his research partner.

The man on the far right, the one with inky black hair and brilliant blue eyes, has a soft smile spreading his soft lips and it’s just for you.

> **CASTIEL NOVAK:** Head of the nuclear physics division of the physics department. Youngest head of anything in the history of the university. Boy genius. Working on ground breaking research with his partner. [It’s Dean, Dean is his partner.] Has been a guest on the Oprah show. Author of the book _Fantastic Particle Collisions and Why we Make Them_ and _Who Let the Nuclear Energy Out? (Who? Who? Who?)_ Professor of the _Black Hole Thermodynamics_ course, this semester.
> 
> Your boyfriend. [Also, part time dom?]

“She telling you about the hot blond from Saturday?” Dean sits on the chair across from Charlie while Sam takes the seat beside him, in front of you.

“She already told you about it?” You ask.

“Nah, man. I _witnessed_ that magic.”

“Dean thought he had a chance for a hot minute.” Charlie snickers.

“I knew she was gay!” He defends.

“You say that like it’s the only reason she wouldn’t have been interested.” It’s Cas who speaks and his voice makes your skin hum. He rounds the table and lets a hand trail over your shoulders before settling down next to you.

You share a look and then a quick kiss and then just continue to gaze at each other. It’s kind of disgusting how sweet it is.

You haven’t seen each other since Saturday, though you’ve been texting. It’s been very...ordinary. You don’t know what you were expecting but Cas has just been Cas. He hasn’t been bossing you around or telling you how to do normal things. In fact, you two haven’t done more than flirt and it’s been your regular flirting, not kinky flirting. Not _you’re a slut that’s only good for my cock_ like he’d offered as an example of dirty talk while you filled out the non-contract.

Things continue like that. If it wasn’t for how mind blowing the experience had been, you might have actually forgotten all about Saturday altogether.

Wednesday, he comes over and you have dinner. He brings you the last cannoli that’s gone a little stale and you share it. You have sex on your small twin sized bed and it whines beneath you as you ride him.

Later, sweaty but no longer panting, with your head on his chest and his hand carding through your hair, you ask him if there are specific books, websites or documentaries on bdsm he’d recommend. You don’t want to misinform yourself. He tells you that he finds the idea and the sight of you doing research hot. You point out that it might have something to do with the chosen material. He says no. He says always. He says he’ll send you an email and lend you the books he has at home. The fact that he’s had books about bdsm at his place this whole time turns you on and you go again.

Thursday, Cas wears the same clothes as Wednesday, though he ditches the sweater and remains in the button down in an attempt to be inconspicuous. Dean notices and calls him a sly dog. A few of his students even throw their hands up for high fives with remarks like _Alright Mister Novak!_ Chuck notices too, at a meeting with all physics division heads and the head of the department, Ellen. He brushes imaginary dust off Cas’ shoulder and tells him he’s looking sharp.

It’s Friday that things take a decidedly unordinary turn.

You’re in your office getting work done between the two classes you teach on fridays when Cas stops by. You miss how he’s closed the door behind him, distracted with finishing the paragraph you’re on so you can greet him properly. You know he’s done teaching for the day. Usually he stays and works on his research but Dean is still making repairs on the particle accelerator so Cas figures that he’ll start his weekend early.

He sits, handing you tea from the on-campus cafe you like.

“Thanks, Cas. That’s really sweet of you.” You smile at him, blow into the mouth hole and set it down, deciding it’s still too hot for a sip.

“Don’t mention it. Would you like to play tonight?”

You’re suddenly very grateful you didn’t take a drink but you’re coughing out a lung anyway. Cas sits up straighter, assesses the situation and decides you aren’t in danger of actual suffocation. He smirks.

“I know we discussed that we wouldn’t signal the beginning and end of scenes, but I’d like to give you instructions prior to your arrival and I want to make sure you’re okay with that.”

“It’s fine.” You wave your hand in an act of nonchalance as you cough one more time for good luck, clearing your throat. “Euh, sure Cas, we can have raunchy, kinky sex tonight.”

Cas tilts his head to the side. “Do you know why those words have come easily to you in this moment even though we both know you tend to struggle with them in… certain situations?”

“Certain situations? Is that what _you’re_ calling raunchy, kinky sex, Cas? Seems to me like you’re the one struggling with words.” You lean forward, placing your elbows on your desk and your head above your loosely clasped fingers, feeling cocky.

Cas raises a brow at you. You really do have some sort of switch in your head. Cas has heard you weigh in on conversations between Dean and Charlie pertaining to oral sex amongst other things. He’s even had explicit conversations with you about your respective first times and other past sexual experiences. He knows you’re not shy talking _about_ sex, you get shy talking _during_ sex. Or at least during this new kind of sex you’ve begun to have.

“It’s because you’re half joking.” He tells you. “That’s why the words roll easier off your tongue. You cover up with humour, but when I ask you to speak during said _raunchy, kinky sex_ , it’s one hundred percent honest. When I ask you to tell me what you want, you’re admitting to your genuine desires out in the open without the excuse of the heat of the moment to hide behind.”

Your hands slip to the desk, your thighs squeeze together and you glare at Cas. “Didn’t I tell you to stop psychoanalysing me?”

Cas laughs and leans back in his chair. “You did and I chose to oblige in that moment.”

“Well, I’m telling you again.”

“Hmm, have you been reading the resources I sent you?”

You flush. “Yeah.”

“Yet, you seem to have gotten our roles reversed. I tell you what to do. Not the other way around.” And then, “Got it?”

You swallow, throat dry. “Yeah, Cas.” And then, “I got it.”

“Good.”

He stands and circles your desk, moves impossible close, cups your face and looks down at you with adoration. For a moment you totally consider undoing his belt and blowing him right then but Cas leans down and presses his lips to yours. It’s a soft kiss but the grip in your hair reminds you who’s in charge.

“I’ll see you later.”

 

Your phone flashes during your last class of the day and you see the notification that says it’s Cas texting but you can’t get away to read it. You dismiss your class twenty minutes early.

_Take off your bra before leaving the school_

_At the red lights, play with and pinch your nipples. Harder each time. Think of me._

_The front door will be unlocked._

It seems easy enough until you’re shuffling from the bathroom to your office paranoid that the few overachieving TAs that litter the hall (despite it being a friday evening) know exactly what you’re up to. Your bra weighs down your messenger bag like it’s a boulder and the fabric of your blouse rubs against your breast. The friction doesn’t do much for you in and of itself, but knowing that Cas knows you’re in this predicament, being in this predicament because Cas has told you to put yourself in it… that does something. Does enough that you start to get wet.

The drive to Cas’ is excruciating. The college town the university is in is about fifteen minutes from the city Cas’ building is at the edge of. As in, right at the edge of. As in, to the left there’s the city and to the right there the long road out of the city. His location has its benefits, namely that Cas is at the halfway point between your studio and the school.

It also has its downsides. The fact that there are very few traffic lights on the way to Cas’ shouldn’t be one of them. Initially you thought you’d lucked out. That Cas hadn’t considered this. That his plans were foiled. Then, you find your fingers itching to touch and your nipples begging _to be_ touched. You realise that Cas probably foresaw this. He wants you squirming and hoping for the opportunity to tease yourself. He didn’t get to be where he is in his career through miscalculations after all.

At the first red light you encounter you hustle to get your coat open and use both hands to pinch your nipples through your shirt. It’s the shock that knocks a moan out of you.

At the second, it’s by the time the light turns green that you notice a man in the car next you watching. It gets dark early enough this time of year that you don’t think he can tell what is actually happening but it doesn’t stop you from flushing a deep red, perhaps rivaling that of the traffic light.

At the third, you know that you purposefully slowed down much more than necessary when the light turned yellow, earning you a honk from the car behind you.

There’s traffic but it’s for the people leaving the city, so you make it there in quick time.

You knock on Cas’ front door before opening it just because it seems like the right thing to do.

“Hey,” He calls from the couch, eyes trained on the horticulture channel on TV.

It’s so casual you’d think he’s forgotten about your plans for the evening except that you see the bulge in his pants.

“Hey,” You say, slipping off your boots, coat and scarf. You leave your bag behind too before going over to him.

You kiss him chastely and then you stand by the couch for a moment, unsure what to do with yourself as Cas continues to watch the television.

He pats the cushion beside him and says, “Kneel here.”

You a second to reel at his word choice but you end up settling on the sofa, on your knees with your butt nestled against your heels, facing Cas.

“Good.”

He runs his hand through your hair without even looking at you and you can’t help but lean into the touch. Your eyes close and you try to calm your racing heart and, you’re pleased to find, not your nerves. You’re not calm but you’re not nervous. Cas is going to take care of you, guide you. You trust this.

You hear a jingle start to play from the TV signaling the end of the programme and then you hear Cas turn it off.

When you open your eyes Cas’ are boring into you, smirking.

“Did you have fun on your drive over here?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d you do?” He smirks _more._

You glare at him. Arrogant Ass.

“I want full sentences.”

You sigh in defeat. “I teased my breasts.” Then, because you want to be good, you add, “For you.”

“That’s right, it was for me. Did you enjoy doing it?”

“Yeah.”

“Did it feel good when you took your bra off and walked around without it because I told you to?”

“Yeah, Cas.”

“Show me.”

You unbutton your shirt and slide it off, leaving it on the cushion behind you.

“Show me how you did it.”

You moan before your fingers even brush against your nipples because it’s Cas’ hungry gaze that’s got you on fire.

“Good. Do it harder, now.” Cas takes a deep, slow breath. “Fuck, you look good. Alright, hands off.”

Your hands grip your knees to keep themselves from moving to Cas.

“What’s your safeword?”

Your mind scrambles to recall, making Cas frown. “Wings.” You should have picked something less cheesy.

“You will remember it faster, next time I ask.”

“Okay.”

Cas leans back and digs into his pocket pulling out something dainty and metallic.

“These are called bull nose nipple clamps. I am not fond of the name, but they are adjustable and ideal for beginners. Would you like to use them?”

You bow your back unconsciously, presenting your breasts to Cas even more. “Yes. Please, put them on me.”

“Look at me,” Cas says and you realise you had squeezed your eyes shut to get the words out. “I’d be happy to.”

Cas folds a leg onto the couch so he can face you properly. He tugs at your nipples, earning him small gasps, then gingerly situates the clamps that are linked with a light and delicate chain.

“How does that feel?”

You nod. “Feels alright.”

“Do they hurt?”

“No, just strange.”

“Alright, you will tell me at the first sign of discomfort, understand?”

“Okay.”

“Put your shirt back on.”

“W-what? Are we not…”

Cas gives you a look that shuts you right up.

“Right, okay, yeah.” You pull the button down over your shoulders again and do it up halfway before Cas stops you with a hand on yours.

“That’ll do,” He says. “You didn’t eat right?”

You shake your head.

“Come on.”

Cas goes to the dining table and you follow, your mind on the feel of the clamps now that you’re walking. The bounce of your breast feels odd but not bad. Across from each other, there’s two bowls filled with chickpea salad and a plate between them has spring rolls.

You groan. “You know I’m only with you because of the food you make right?” You sit in the chair he pulls out for you and you both hear the swish of the chain against your shirt, making you blush.

“I bet if that were true you wouldn’t be letting me do all these things to you.”

You don’t have an answer so you scoop food into your mouth and Cas laughs, settling in his own seat.

“How was your day?”

“You have metal biting into my nipples and you want to talk about my day?”

Cas laughs again, startled by your bluntness. “Do you not want to tell me about your day?”

“It was fine. Went to work. Did my job. Went over to my prick boyfriend’s house. Answered his dumb questions.”

“Do you think mouthing off is the best of ideas?”

You glare at your plate.

“ _Answer me._ ”

Quietly, you say, “No, Cas.”

“Are you going to behave?”

“Yes, Cas.”

_Yes._ So often you say _sure_ or _okay_ , rarely _yes._ Cas has to physically press a palm against his erection.

“You had the seminar for the undeclared freshmen this morning, right? How’d that go?”

“It went well. They laughed at my jokes, even the science ones. A bunch stayed for questions after.”

“That’s really great. Bobby did good putting you to the task.”

You roll your eyes. “Singer just wanted me out of what little hair he has.”

Cas laughs.

“How about you? To be honest, I thought you’d be more freaked out with everything that’s going on with the particle accelerator and how it’s derailing your research.”

He nods, looking mildly chagrined. “We recovered all the data so I’m still able to move forward for the time being and I trust Dean completely, though it remains a bit unsettling. There are only three tabletop PAs in the country and the university won’t be able to procure another one. We don’t have the space for the larger ones, either.”

It’s true, regular, non-laser based, particle accelerators are easily the size of Cas’ apartment building. How the university even got its hands on the much more compact and coveted device, that could easily be held within your own hands, is beyond you

“What even happened?”

Cas goes into an explanation of what occurred and you nod along making suggestions here and there, one that Cas whips out his phone to make note of.

Eventually, he says, “Brush against your nipples.” He watches your pleasured reaction as you do what you’re told with an arm across your chest. The command is erotic, you obeying it even more so, but Cas really just wants to make sure you haven’t gone numb, a real danger with nipple clamps. “How do you feel?”

You nod, still lost in the tingles that have spread across your breast. You’re not used to them being so responsive.

“I am willing to be patient, but I know you’re bright enough to understand that eventually there will be punishment when you don’t respond the way I expect you to. That is to say, verbally.”

You swallow apprehensively at the idea of being punished. Of screwing up so that Cas would have to. “Sorry, Cas. Um, feels good.”

“Yeah? You enjoying the ‘metal biting into your nipples’, baby?”

“Yeah,” You say, a little breathless.

“Show me.”

You put your spoon down and start undoing your buttons again.

“No.” Cas stops you. “I love how eager you are to be naked for me, but I want you to show me how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

You don’t know how you know, but you know what Cas wants. So you slip your hand into your pants and slide two fingers between your lips, just for a quick shudder inducing moment, before pulling out so Cas can see your slick shine off your fingers.

“Look how well you’re taking to this. _Look._ ”

You take your eyes off of his and land them on your hand that suddenly feels foreign, alien to your own body. The sight of it, glistening because of the things Cas says and Cas says to do, makes you squirm.

“Clean it up.”

You place their entire length in your mouth and tighten your lips around them before pulling out, sucking the wetness off. There’s a soft _pop_ and a groan from Cas. You surprise him by sticking them back in to run your tongue between the two fingers to get to the slickness that’s there. Then, once you’re done, you lick at the base of them for anything you’ve missed.

_You’re nothing if not thorough,_ Cas thinks, not for the first time. You weren’t even _trying_ to be sultry. He knows because he’s seen you do sultry. You were just fucking cleaning them up for him, _efficiently_ , and Cas needs to once again thank whatever deity sent you his way.

“Finish your food.”

His voice is hoarse and you can’t help a cheeky smile and the swell of pride in your chest. You did that to Cas. You got him hot and bothered. Only fair, you think, considering.

“I would like to introduce a rule.” He says.

This has your chickpea-and-pepper-loaded spoon stilling in midair. “Okay.”

“It blurs a few lines so you will tell me if you are uncomfortable with it.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you.”

“I want you braless in my apartment at all times.”

“You want me to take it off before coming over, like today?”

“At the door when you arrive works as well.”

“Okay. Which lines are getting blurred?” You ask, frowning in confusion.

“This would be at all times, whether we’re in a scene or not. If you don’t like that, the rule can be that you’d take it off whenever we begin.”

“No, no, um it’s fine. I can do that.”

Cas watches your eyes dilate before his very own and smirks. “Would you _like_ it?”

“Yeah, Cas.” You take a deep breath. “I think I’d like it a lot if I- I took my bra off for you every time I come over.”

Cas swallows thickly. “So that you’re always ready for me to touch.”

“Yes, Cas.”

“Good girl.”

Actual, physical tension loosens from your shoulders at the words.

“Finish your food.” He repeats.

 

In the bedroom, Cas has you remove your clothing. He takes off most of his too, staying in his boxers.

“What’s your safeword?”

“Wings.” You’re quick to reply.

“I’m going to tighten the clamps,” He says but waits for a response before acting.

“Okay.”

He twists the small thumb screw the tiniest amount, making you yelp a little.

“I’m good.” You say before he asks.

Brushing the pads of his thumbs against your nipples and making you shiver, he says, “You’re perfect.”

He lifts a hand to graze your cheek as he stares into your eyes. His are so blue you’d willingly drown in them if it meant you could feel forever the way you feel now. The moment doesn’t last too long as Cas grunts and drops his forehead to your shoulder and the hand on your face returns to your breast, thumbs working your nipples in slow circles.

“Cas? You alright there, pal?”

He raises his head to look at you and the blue of his eyes is half gone, swallowed by his growing pupils. “I had a pl- Don’t call me pal. I had a plan.”

“Euh okay? You had a plan…”

“Well, an idea, a detailed idea, but with room from redirection and spontaneity.”

“You’re going to have to clue me in a little more there, Cas”

“For tonight,” Cas says. “A plan for tonight.”

You shift, thinking about Cas thinking about tonight. _Planning._

“Now that I’ve got you here there’s so much that I want to do with you, _to you._ I’m not entirely convinced you know what you’ve gotten yourself into. I don’t even know where to start anymore.” He huffs like he’s been burdened.

You let out a small laugh. “Cas, there’s n-”

“On the bed. On your back.”

“Yes, _sir_.” You laugh even as you hastily obey.

After ditching his boxers, Cas kneels between your legs, bending them at the knees and parting them. “You keep them like this or I’ll use the spreader bar and _I’ll_ keep them like this.” His voice is low and sexy so you nod and say okay.

“Do you like that?” He asks and it’s not the porn cliche it sounds like. It’s a genuine question as he nods to your chest.

You realise that you’ve been toying with your breasts. “Yeah, Cas.”

“You like to touch yourself for me?”

You’re already breathless when you say, “Yeah, Cas.”

He leans forward, looms over you and takes one of your hands in his, dragging it down your body to your mound. “So touch yourself for me.”

You finger finds your clit immediately and you shudder out a small moan. Your eyes are on Cas’ face while his roam your body, lingering mostly between your legs. You feel your skin heat up and you’re faced with the bare honest fact that you _do_ like touching yourself for Cas. For Cas to watch.

“Is this how you usually do it?”

You nod. “S’how I start.”

Cas hums and your eyeline is dragged down as his hand wraps around himself and he starts tugging at his cock.

You groan, your knees gathering so you can squeeze your thighs together for additional pressure. Cas’ hands are pulling them apart just as quickly.

He smacks your thigh and says, “Strike one.”

“Sorry.”

“Show me what you do next.”

Your fingers slide down your pussy to dip one in, just barely and then all the way. You press upwards inside, making your hips bear down a little.

“Look at that, went right in. It’s because of how much you want it, isn’t it?”

Your next moan is a loud drawn out _yes_ in the room, startling Cas and making him harden that much more. You throw your head back as you add a finger and start pumping them. “ _Cas._ ”

“Christ. Tell me what you think about when you do this to yourself. When you touch yourself in bed like this. Desperate to get off like this.”

You don’t have a filter in that moment, mostly because you’re already close to coming. If you weren’t so close you’d question how you’ve gotten so close so fast, but your brain isn’t in business right now.

“I don’t know Cas, I don’t know, all sorts of things. You, sometimes. You, often. Sometimes about a porno I watched in high school. Someti- _fuck,_ Cas, yes, yes-”

“No, stop,” Cas says.

You freeze and try to get a clear sight of him through your bleary vision.

Once your eyes are locked on his, he says, “You’ll come on my cock, tonight.”

“Fuck yeah.” You shudder.

Cas picks up your hand and before taking your fingers into his mouth says, “Tell me about this high school pornography of yours.”

His other hand continues to jerk himself off and it takes a second for your mind to focus on his words instead of the disappearing and reappearing head of his dick or the slip and slide of your digits against his lips.

You lick your own lips and say, “What? Cas, it’s nothing-”

He slides your fingers out. “No. You’ll tell me. You were obviously marked by it or you wouldn’t be recalling it years later.” He goes right back to sucking on your fingers. This time, he’s making a show of it and you can’t tear your eyes away. You have to remind yourself to keep your legs open.

“It was nothing special, just stuck with me because it was my f-first…”

Satisfied with the state of your fingers, Cas takes them out and returns your hand to your breast so that they can both receive the same attention. You hadn’t stopped working your ministrations with your other hand this whole time.

“Your first time watching porn?” Cas prompts.

You shake your head. “No, first time I orgasmed. Not the first time I _tried_ but, yknow…”

Cas slows down his own masturbation, has to if he plans on being able to fuck you. “Keep going.”

“I don’t- It’s stupid. It was just this couple. And they had sex.”

Cas’ free hand brushes up your thigh a few inches, starting at the knee, but stops when you do.

“Were playing a card game. Or something.” His hand continues, moving slowly. “There was a bet.” Your breath hitches, in anticipation as Cas gets closer to where you notice he hasn’t touched you at all yet. “S-she lost and the stakes were-” Cas’ hand settles in the crease of your inner thigh and he’s so close, just about to touch you. If you keep going, then he will too. “Loser does whatever the other says.”

Cas’ hands freeze. Both of them. The one that’s infuriatingly close to your sex and the one he had teasing the head of his cock. “Loser had to do whatever the other said?” He repeats, staring at you in disbelief.

“Y-yeah,” You tilt your hips up to get _something_ , but it’s unsuccessful. “Cas, come on, please, want you to touch me.”

Cas’ head is swimming. Just under a week ago you had to be coaxed into asking for something, into admitting what you wanted, now you’re practically begging for him to give you anything. _Cas’ head is swimming_ because he doesn’t understand how you’ve never done this before. Never explored this before. He knows you’re no prude. Knows you’ve experimented. You’ve told him about trying anal and having sex in semi-public places and that time you performed at a stripclub to bail out a friend of yours. And yet-

“And you’ve kept the memory of that video with you all this time?”

“Yeah, Cas but you’re making it sound weird. It’s not a freaking childhood friend that I’ve kept in my heart or whatever. Can you _please_ do something.” You’re tugging and twisting your nipples a little more aggressively now, frantic for more stimulation at this point.

“You’re unbelievable. And you never thought you’d be into _taking orders_?”

“W-what? No, Cas it was just…”

Then you think about. Think about the porn you tend to gravitate towards. The videos you’ve gone back to time and time again. You notice that they’re never full on bdsm, probably due to your own resistance, but they all have an undertone of it at least. You think about the best sex you’ve ever had. About how the common denominator is a slightly aggressive demanding guy (and that bossy girl, once). Which was like tasting a candy bar, artificial and not quite right but closer to what you want, but now Cas is giving you belgian truffles.

Cas can see the wheels churning which is good, he thinks. There’s obviously some realisations you need to be making but he doesn’t want you getting inside your own head, right this instant. He leans over you and takes your mouth in an assertive and forceful kiss that has you moaning into it and forgetting to think.

When he pulls away he says, “I’m going to fuck you now,” and then, he does.

There’s a moment where he puts on a condom, then he’s gripping your hips and sliding in. It’s not exactly a thrust but it isn’t slow either. It’s perfect and steady and you moan his name to let him know.

Cas holds your hips so that he’s in control of the pace when he starts pulling out and pushing in. You let him. You allow him to keep you still when he wants you still and, when his hips start snapping forward between your legs, you allow him to move you to the rhythm he’s building, amplifying each thrust.

A mess of words falls from your lips. “Yes, Cas. Fuck, Cas. Please, Cas.”

Cas grunts and presses your wrists into the mattress. “Fuckin’ perfect. Made for this. Made to take this. _Take it._ ”

Your hips are free to move now and you meet Cas’ as he fucks himself into you. You admit, “Yeah, Cas, wanna take everything you give me.”

Cas growls, “Stay.”

You’re not sure what he means at first but then he lets go of your wrists and you don’t dare move them. Cas hooks a finger in the chain linking the clamps almost lazily, dissimilarly to the thorough movement of his hips, and tugs.

“ _Cas,_ I wanna come please please can I come?”

Cas hadn’t told you that you’d need permission, only that it’d have to be on his cock. Still, hearing your request, hearing you plea, has his body stuttering for a moment.

“Wait,” He says and you think it’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard but you nod anyway.

“Okay, Cas.” You twist your fingers into the sheets.

He tugs at the chain again. “Good girl.”

You fucking glow.

“Take a deep breath. Good. Hold it. I’m going to take this clamp off and you’re going exhale slowly, got it?”

When he sees you nod he unfastens the clamp. First, you feel pain and you end up releasing part of your breath in a burst, but Cas is right there murmuring _easy_ and licking your slightly swollen nub. The pain doesn’t go away but it changes. It becomes something good, something that _feels_ good. Your back bows off the bed because you want more of Cas’ mouth on your nipple. You want more of Cas.

Absently, you feel his hands spread your legs that had started squeezing his hips, then you feel his hands press yours back into the mattress after they found his hair.

When he lifts his head he’s half heartedly glaring at you. “Next time you’re getting tied down.”

You open your mouth, maybe to protest, maybe to agree, maybe to beg- for what? you don’t know- but Cas pushes his thumb past your lips and presses down on your tongue, coating it with your spit. He uses it to massage your freed nipple.

“Deep breath,” He says.

He takes off the second clamp and what follows is a repeats of the pain, pleasure, want, need, writhe, _please Cas, please._

Cas moves to hover over you so you’re breathing against his shoulder. He whispers in your ear, “You’re allowed to come.” It’s spoken roughly and he’s panting too and nothing has ever sounded better.

You come, bucking your hips, and Cas fucks you through it. He croons at you but it’s disjointed so you know he’s coming too and that fact keeps you going.

After a long moment where Cas’ body presses yours into the mattress so much so that you feel the expanding of his chest as he catches his breath, he rolls off you, sweaty skin unsticking, and discards the condom.

He wraps his arms around you, pulls you close and murmurs against your neck. “How are you?”

You hum. Your mind is cloudier than usual after sex which has nothing to do with you submitting to Cas or whatever and everything to do with how good- how _long_ \- of an orgasm that was.

An arm wraps around him so you can tangle your fingers in his hair. It’s softer than normal, in this moment, but maybe that’s because everything feels perfect just now.

“‘M doin’ good, Cas.” You sound more hoarse than you would have anticipated if you were in a state to anticipate anything at all.

Cas presses his lips to yours for what feels like forever but might just be a matter of seconds. You’re not really kissing, but that’s okay. It’s perfect like this.

“Are you okay if I go get something? I’ll return quickly.”

Your brows furrow. Why wouldn’t you be okay? Then again, Cas not being right here, Cas not touching you, Cas out of sight makes you feel uneasy. Which is ridiculous. “‘M good, Cas.”

He kisses you again, an actual kiss this time, brief and chaste as it is, before leaving the room buttnaked. You watch him go with half lidded eyes and think maybe you ought to count your blessing more often.

Cas isn’t gone long, so you don’t really have the time to analyse the disquiet that ends up settling inside you. It doesn’t end up mattering because the feeling evaporates with his return.

“Sit up, sweetheart.” He says as he returns to his previous spot on the bed, leaning against the headboard in lieu of lying down.

“‘M good,” You repeat.

“Sit up.” He tells you, leaving no room for argument this time.

You groan and shuffle around on wobbly limbs until you’re sitting up too, your side against his. He hands you a glass of water.

“Drink,” He says.

So you drink.

The water is refreshing and perks you up some as it trickles down your throat. Fleetingly, you think you can feel it spread inside of you. Cas tells you to keep going when you stop so you keep going while he caresses you affectionately. When there’s less than half left you look up at Cas questioningly and he nods at you.

You rest the glass against your thigh, then decide it’s too cold and place it on Cas’, keeping your fingers in a loose grip around it.

Cas continues to touch you, small contact that you find more comforting than you have before.

“You did so well, for me.”

“I moved,” You frown, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I know, so next time I’m tying you up, just like I said I would.”

A shiver runs through you. “Is that my punishment?”

Cas asks, “You don’t think you’d like being tied up?”

“No, I do.”

“Then there’s your answer. I’m not planning to punish for this, in any case.”

“Okay.”

You two sit quietly, more alert than before and not quite as drowsy, not enough to fall asleep immediately.

“You think that video from when I was in highschool really means something?” You ask Cas.

“I think it might.”

“I- I’m not- I’ve never… It’s not like I want someone to take over my life and boss me around all the time.”

“If it does mean something, I know you know it’s not that.”

You slump more against him, rotating the cup in your hand.

“What I do know is that you’ve taken to this a lot. I see it.” You shift in his embrace, so Cas continues. “It’s not a bad thing, baby.”

“I know, ‘cause…” Cas patiently waits for you to finish your thought. “It feels good so I don’t think it can be bad.”

Cas kisses your forehead and you decide that _good_ is an understatement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always appreciated!  
> Find me on [tumblr](https://fanforfanatic.tumblr.com/) :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend a lazy Saturday at Cas'. He makes you breakfast, makes you read, and makes you come.

The next morning, Cas diligently stirs bechamel sauce over the hot stove, and you stumble to the doorway of his bedroom. 

You’re wearing the sleepshirt that’s too big even on him and, he thinks maybe, underwear. You press a palm against an eye, sleep crust prickling your skin. Your hair's a mess that frames your face in a way Cas has told you he likes even if he can’t successfully run his fingers through it.

“Good morning,” Cas calls cheerily.

You grunt and retreat back into the room.

Cas is still stirring when you re-emerge minutes later, with a fresh face and an easy smile.

“Good morning,” Cas tries again, turning the pep to low.

You interlace your fingers together and hook them on Cas’ shoulder, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Morning. Smells amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Cas’ snakes an arm around you, and turns you to press your back against his chest. His hand, the one not whisking at a steady beat, lifts the t-shirt to slide into your underwear. 

He dips between your lips without stalling. His dry fingers are rough and the way he rubs, left of your clit, hurts just a little.

“Cas,” you laugh. “Alright, so a very good morning.”

“Be quiet,” he speaks into your ear, deep and commanding and you feel your arousal spike and build.

You drop your head back on his shoulder but manage a nod somewhere along the way.

“Look at that. You obey so prettily for me.” Cas isn’t praising you for keeping your mouth shut. He’s reminding you how quickly you end up under his thumb. Exactly where he wants you. Exactly where you want to be.

His hand drifts deeper into your underwear and the tips of his fingers find your entrance. And the  _ wet _ accumulating there.

Cas laughs loftily. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

_ You know.  _ Does he think you don’t know? You end up nodding against his shoulder again.

His fingers move to circle your clit, dragging your slick along your slit. The unwavering sound of the whisk scraping the bottom of the pot taunts you, reminds you just how in control Cas is. How he’s unaffected while you’re already desperate.

Your hips roll, doing their best to get you more. Cas laugh again and you shudder in his arms.

That familiar sensation builds inside you. The way Cas speaks to you. The way he has you trapped between his unrelenting hand and his firm chest. It builds and builds and you bite your lip because you don’t know if the rule is not to talk or not make any sound at all. It builds and it builds and the whisk is still at it, still constant, and your hips jerk. It builds and it builds  _ and it builds  _ and then it stops.

You let out a pained grunt as Cas removes his hand from your underwear. He spins you, so you face him and you’re only a little unsteady on your feet.

Cas smirks at you, a true smirk that isn’t particularly playful and you whimper out a moan despite your best efforts to remain silent. Cas keeps stirring the bechamel with one hand and wipes his wet fingers of the other on your lips. You don’t register him doing it until he leans back to look you over. Like he’s a painter assessing his work.

You shift under his scrutiny, fiddling with your hands.

“Look at me,” he says. You’re avoiding his gaze by looking down, again.

Your eyes meet his lust blown ones. Yours must be the same.

“Eyes on me.” He doesn’t allow you to nod, pushing his fingers past your lips and pulling down until you’re kneeling for him.

It’s so cliche, almost too cliche for you to take it seriously, but Cas looms over you like that’s his place, and he drags his fingers in and out of your mouth, fucking it, like it’s his right, and he looks down at you like you’re his, and it feels  _ good _ . So maybe you are.

You suck and you lick but Cas runs the show. Cas sets the pace. Cas decides when you’ve had enough. 

He pulls his fingers out one last time, wiping the excess spit onto your parted lips that are poised for more. You don’t break eye contact but at the bottom edge of your vision his boxers tent. You know he knows what you want.

You lick your lips to make your point anyway, catching some of your own slick and saliva on your tongue.

“Go on, then,” he says. “Be good for me.”

You squeeze your thighs together as you tug his boxers down. Your eyes leave his only for a brief second and then they lock again. You watch him watch you while you take the head of his cock in your mouth. 

You’ve done this before, you know just how to make Cas come from your mouth and you know how to make him come hard. So you pull out all the stops, teasing his tip for a long while before taking his entire length. It’s slow and steady as you sink your mouth onto him, both of you moaning when he breaches your throat. When your lips are wrapped around his base, you wink at Cas and swallow around him, only to draw back and return to teasing. 

You repeat your ministrations, taking him all the way, then teasing his head. You know Cas feels good, know he’s enjoying it, but he’s been quiet since that first moan. You double your efforts, hollowing your cheeks that much more, working your tongue in clever ways, until Cas is a breathy mess above you, sighing out pleased sounds that grow your want, the proof pooling between your legs. 

Cas’ hand falls atop your head, a heavy presence that does no more than be there, but you’re not fooled into thinking that you have any real control. 

“Sucking my dick so well, for me. Fucking your face on it, for me. Just like you’re supposed to. Just like you’re told to. Fuck, that’s it. Yes, yes, baby. Make me come, make me—”

You do as you’re told, keeping Cas buried to the hilt. You moan loudly, for his benefit, knowing that the vibrations get to him, and swallow one more time. He comes, hips stuttering against your face.

You start to move away, but Cas’ hand keeps you there longer so he can stare down at you. Eyes wide and watery, lips red and swollen, looking like you’ve been properly fucked.

The quiet timer of his phone rings and Cas pulls out and gets distracted with turning it off and removing the sauce from the heat. He turns back to you, and finds that you’re still kneeling. Not shifting awkwardly or fiddling with your fingers. You’re just kneeling for him and waiting.

Perfect.

He leans down to kiss the top of your head and tells you to stand up. He kisses you again, hard and rough this time, trapping you against the refrigerator and kneading your breast through the t-shirt, happy when your nipples harden.

When he pulls away you’re breathless and flushed and he smirks again. “Took my cock like a champ. Did you enjoy it?”

“I always like blowing you,” you answer honestly, a little dazed.

Cas’ domineering demeanor ebbs away and he looks at you with the adoration that always makes something inside of you ache.

“Go sit at the table.”

Cas brings over two plates with fresh fruit beside eggs on toast. The sauce poured on top warms the dish.

You talk for a while, about your upcoming week, about maybe doing something outside if you get a heavier snowfall soon, about the university christmas party, about an article you’ve read, about an article he’s read. 

You finish the conversation about a project Singer wants you to take on next semester—it would have you visiting the nearby high schools—and without missing a beat Cas says, “After we eat, I’m going to take you to the bedroom, you’re going to kneel on the bed, and pull your underwear down for me.”

“I- euh… Okay.”

After you eat, Cas takes you to the bedroom and you kneel for him, pulling your shirt up and your underwear down so that they’re around your knees. You rest your forehead on your folded arms, bending at the waist.

He rummages in  _ the  _ drawer while you lay there, vulnerable and waiting and  _ wanting. _

Cas returns, and ghosts a hand over your exposed skin. He says, “What’s your safeword?”

“Wings.”

“I’m going to open you up, slow and steady, and then I’m going to put this plug where I’ve wanted it to go for a while now.” He speaks methodically, in the way that is entirely him, but you catch the ring of excitement in his voice.

You say, “Okay.”

“We’ll sit and read after, just like we discussed at breakfast, and I’ll want you to keep it where I leave it.” He promises, “It’ll be pleasant.”

You let out a small moan and Cas laughs quietly. He’s been right about what you’ll like every time.

He drags a finger through your slick spreading it back between your cheeks. “Have you thought about it? Since last week. Do you think about doing the things we’ve done? The ones we’ve agreed to try?”

You hide more of your face in your arms, arching your back as if presenting yourself to Cas can substitute your answer.

His breath hitches behind you, but he says your name in reprimand.

“I’ve thought about it,” you admit, and Cas already knows. He just wanted you to say it.

“Me too.” His confession has your body begging. You want him inside you again. “Perhaps too much.”

You swallow and shakily say his name. Cas takes it as his cue to get started, and he really is just getting started. The morning in the kitchen was a preamble.

You expect lube but Cas gives you his tongue. Slow licks that drag against your rim and they are all that exist in the world. Even the fingers teasing your folds don’t register, not beyond the hazy feeling of pleasure. Cas stiffens his tongue and prods inside, and there is nothing blurred about that. You feel his nose-exhales, the stubble on his cheeks scratching your, the wet softness of his tongue and it all culminates into something sharp. A sort of  _ want  _ you haven’t known before. 

Cas drags it out. Takes his fucking time. He wasn’t kidding about  _ slow and steady _ , and you don’t know if you’re grateful or vindictive because getting you there doesn’t seem part of his plans. You want and you want but you never  _ get _ . Not really. Not  _ it _ . 

You think it’s finally over when you hear the  _ click _ of lube opening. You’ve been whimpering, a few tears escaping into your hairline, asking Cas to just make you come already, using your words like a good girl. But it’s not over. Cas starts over again. He works a finger inside of you for a long time, gentle even as he says obscene things behind you, before adding another and then another.

It’s almost a shock when he slides the plug all the way inside and stops there. Doesn’t tease you with it. Cas has worked you over so thoroughly that it goes in easily. He doesn’t pull it back out to push it back in, doesn’t fuck you with it even when you ask him to. Instead, Cas gives your right buttcheek a quick bite that wroughts a guttural moan out of you, and lifts your underwear back into place.

“Cas,” you croak wetly, wiping tear tracks on your forearms.

Cas hauls you up into a kneeling position on the bed, your back to his chest again. “What?” he rasps in your ear while a hand travels under your shirt to ghost over each breast and toy with your left nipple.

You writhe against him, and clutch the arm he has wrapped around your waist, unyieldingly holding you close. You shiver at the kiss he places just behind your ear, his soft lips pressing into your skin like it is all they were ever meant to do.

“What?” Cas repeats, voice rough.

“Don’t make me wait, please, Cas.”  

“I’m not making you do anything.” There’s laugh in his voice. “What did we agree to?”

You bite into your lip to keep from telling him to fuck off—or to keep from begging him to fuck you—but your mouth falls open with a loud moan when he pinches your nipple with an unforgiving twist.

“We said,” you breathe, words barely intelligible. Cas reduced you to a panting mess and you gave into it, enjoyed every goddamn second. Even now, your arousal hikes at the understanding that you’ll only be getting what Cas allows. “We said that we’d read.”

“That’s exactly right, my smart girl.”

_ No, no, no _ . You shake your head in refusal and plaster your body to Cas’, grinding your ass against him. The plug shifts and your own needy sob startles you. You just want to come. You wanted to come when you were bent over, offering your ass to Cas. You wanted to come when you were kneeling and taking his cock in your mouth, when he had his fingers on your tongue, when he had you taste yourself on them.

“Shhh. You’re fine,” he speaks right into your ear, both hands rubbing comfort into the sides of your arms. “You’re okay.”

You hide your face in his neck and nod slowly, eyes closed as you concentrate on breathing. Then you focus on mouthing at Cas’ throat, placing your own wet kisses. You stay like this, with Cas’ soothing touch bringing you down from the edge he put you on.

Eventually, he coaxes you off the bed and to your feet, and tucks you into his side. You feel good, loose and light, if a little embarrassed about how you behaved. How Cas gets you so desperate, you don’t know. You start to walk and the toy, gripped tight inside you, moves with every step. You chew at your lip again, holding off the whimpers.

With a grip on your hips, Cas guides you out of the room and to one of the many bookshelves he has brimming with novels and textbooks. He stands behind you, and slides his hands up your body to massage your shoulders.

“Pick something,” he orders, punctuating the gentle command with a soft bite where your neck begins. 

“I’m doing a reread of your last book,” you say, nodding to the coffee table where you left it. “I can—”

“No.” The next bite is less soft. “Pick something else.” 

You focus on the abundance of choices before you see  _ them _ . You’ve perused these very shelves many times, so you aren’t sure how you managed to miss them before, but they stand out from the rest, now: a cluster of books, maybe half a dozen, varying in size and colour. Their titles range from  _ Vicarious Kinks: S/M in the Socio-Legal Imaginary  _ to  _ Kinbaku: The Art of Rope Bondage _ .

You trail a finger from the book at the far left to the one on the far right and Cas hums. He says, “That’s a good girl.”

You nod like you agree, and maybe you do. You’ve been trying to do this right.

The book you end up picking is  _ The Ultimate Guide to Kink: BDSM, Role Play and the Erotic Edge _ , a hardback with a muted grey background and happy blue lettering.

“I thought I was your guide?” Cas feigns offence. 

You smile despite yourself and playfully jab an elbow back into his stomach, but your motions stutter when Cas drops a hand to tap the plug. You’re not smiling after that, whining in the quiet room instead.

“Come on,” Cas says, grabbing the book and taking you by the hand, leading you to the couch.

You settle on opposite ends of the sofa, backs to your respective armrests, playing a half-hearted game of footsies where your feet tangle on the middle cushion. Cas reads his latest horticulture handbook, glancing up at you every so often. You only know because you glance up at him, too. That is, when you aren’t enrapt with the book in your lap or distracted by the grind of the plug against sensitive parts of you.

An hour goes by—you can tell with the peaking sun’s light spilling into the room from the large windows. Cas spoke a few times, usually to share a leafy fun fact paired with hands trailing up your bare calves. Once, he made it all the way up to your mid thigh and you held a hopeful breath, but he leaned back too soon, taking his wandering hands with him.

“You’re squirming,” Cas says. Looking at him you find his eyes still trained on his book, but he’s not talking about plants anymore. He looks up, smirks. “You’re more flushed than you were a minute ago, too. What’s riling you?”

You glare back at his blatant mischief before blocking him from view with the book.

“Courageous,” he notes, half an observation and half a threat. “You want to rethink that?”

You still before dutifully lowering the volume back to your lap. “Sorry,” you murmur. When Cas’s face lights up, something somewhere inside your chest does, too.

“I want to know which part you’re at. I know you’re past the  _ Daddy and Caretakers _ chapter. I heard you giggling all the way through.”

“It’s a legitimate kink,” you defend with a big toothy smile. “It’s just not…”

“For us?”

“Yeah.”

“I bet a month ago you didn’t think what we’re doing now was for us either.”

“You make a valid point, Professor Novak. You’re so very wise.”

“Quit smart mouthing. I said I want to know which part you’re at.” 

Cas is a visual paradox sometimes, appearing like a calm sea and a thunderous sky all at once. You don’t hesitate to obey, and hand over the book, still open at the page you’re on.

“I don’t think so. If you’re going to mouth off, then you can put it to work, and read to me.”

“Cas, come on,” you plea. 

“Read,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

You reposition the book, clear your throat and smooth out the page, then clear your throat again. Cas says your name, a warning you’re quick to heed.

You read. “‘Pain is a tool often utilised during punishent.’ I mean, punishment,” you correct hastily.

“Hmm.” The sound ghost up your shins to reach you and Cas’ fingertips follow, eliciting goosebumps along the way. “You should mind your pronunciation.” He drags his fingertips back down slowly, tracing the curve of your leg.

“However, many submissives derive pleasure from it.”

Cas grips your ankles and tugs you towards him, making you yelp as you find yourself flat on your back, crotch close to him. He places your legs on either side, draping them over his knees. 

“Keep going,” he orders, eyes on where the plug is hidden by the fabric of your underwear, hands teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

Your focus splits between his touch and the book in your hands. “Thus, it’s plausible to deliberately seek out punishment. For this re-eas- _ uh _ rea-reason—” 

Cas pinches you sharply. “You’re a scholar, baby. Read like one.”

You lick your lips. “Yes, Cas,” you say, getting back to it, and he rewards your obedience with a soothing brush of his thumb over your stinging flesh. “For this reason,” you speak clearly, if a little breathy as Cas goes back to caressing you. “Pain for punishment is not always the recommended route.”

You continue with this little game of his, Cas teasing you until you stumble over your words and chastising with rough hands when you do. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly unforgiving, he stops touching you altogether, and your hips buck off the sofa of their own volition, searching for friction that is not there. Won’t be until Cas is ready to allow it.

You’re sweating, and panting, and messing up every other word. “The goal— _ ah _ —is always to dis-discipline and correct misbehavior. Th-the negative reinforcement serves— _ Fuck! _ ”

Cas stops the circular motion at your inner thighs to instead grind his palm against the plug. You see him laugh over the edge of the book when you keen and bear down on a hand that’s already gone.

“You’re so distracted. Is the material not interesting?” he asks, words laden with mirth.

“You’re being a jerk, Cas,” It’s petulant to your own ears.

Cas twists the plug abruptly, ”You’re being ungrateful.” His tone is dark and admonishing and sends a shiver up your spine. “You always want more.”

A shallow thrust of the toy, and you whimper. Shakily, you continue reading as a form of apology and Cas kisses your thigh, lips soft and insistent, before giving it a quick snip of teeth.

Every time you stutter, Cas presses on the plug. You have half a mind to fumble deliberately, but that’s not what Cas wants. You want to do what Cas wants. So you endure, body tense and straining, and chest heaving beneath the book.

The next time the plug moves, it’s gentler, and stubble prickles your skin. You shift the book to the side to look down, and see Cas bend and kiss the flat part of the plug. He noses up the crease of your thigh, and tongues the top of your slit, kisses your clit.

He looks up at you. Blue eyes make your breath hitch and wet lips make your mouth water. His smile stretches slowly, feline and wolfish all at once, and he tells you to read, so you do. He kisses the soft flesh of your tummy next, using one hand to move your shirt up as he does, but leaving the other between your legs to play with the toy. Your legs move with him, staying hooked around his hips. 

Cas’ body covers yours, a broad presence above you, hovering so that you only feel brushes of skin here and there, but it sparks heat like a match. He plucks the book from your white-knuckle grip, closes it one-handedly, and sets it on the floor. He’s smiling at you, charming, perfect, and you surge forward to kiss him but he ducks his head.

He gets rougher at your breasts, holding the buds between bared teeth, within a smirk that makes your heart trip over itself much like how you trip over words. He splits his time between teasing your breasts and nuzzling your neck. His hot breath and the non-kiss brush of his lips giving you goosebumps.

He brings his mouth to yours but reels back when you crane your neck forward. You grunt in annoyance and lift your hips instead, seeking out his solid body, but Cas moves away again, drawing out half the plug and pushing it back in. 

You moan and shake and beg, “Cas.”

“Yes, baby?” he lilts, eyes gleaming

You wrap an arm around his neck and try to pull him into a kiss, but he’s unmovable. Cas just keeps teasing you, scraping teeth against your collarbone, trailing his nose up your throat, biting the lobe of your ear, fluttering his lashes against your cheek in butterfly kisses, but never real kisses. He won’t meet your hips with his, won’t touch you where you want. You’re only given the occasional twist or push of the plug. And you… you’re a mess beneath him. Writhing and whining and  _ wanting _ .

Each time you try to get more, to get something—anything—Cas moves out of the way, usually with a laugh. He keeps himself just out of reach, dancing away from you when you move in on him. Sometimes he’ll drag his lips along your jaw to your chin, and you think he’s going to kiss you, but he never does.

You sob and rock your hips against nothing, thrashing within the confines of his body. 

His lips near yours, Cas says, “What’s the matter? Don't you want to kiss me?”

He’s gone, sucking on the spot just below your ear, by the time your lips purse, and you choke out a plea.

“I don’t understand. Don't you want to come for me?" Cas teases and all you can do is nod. “Doesn’t really seem like it. You’re not even trying.”

“Please,” you gasp brokenly, shaking your head at the absurdity. As if you’ve ever wanted anything more. “Please, Cas, please.” He hums against your pulse. “Please let me kiss you.”

Cas moves his face above yours, smirk as wicked as ever but eyes soft. “How could I say no to you?”

Cas leans down, taking a short eternity for his lips—his soft, plump, perfect lips—to finally,  _ finally, _ touch yours. It’s gentle, barely there at first, you’re afraid he’s going to pull back again, but it grows insistent, solid. You meet him with fervor, and lick at the seam of his mouth. He smiles but he opens to touch tongues and the sensation shoots down to your clit.

Cas’ fingers trail away from the plug, over your dripping slit to cup your mound. You’re wound so tight that it’s enough to push you over the edge he’s kept you on for what feels like hours. Since that morning, really. Since you kneeled for him. 

You come with that distantly in mind, though mostly you are unable to think about any one thing other than his hard length against your hip and the pleasure washing over you, crashing wave after crashing wave. You buck under Cas, against the hard line of his body, and he holds you down with large, strong hands and kisses you through it.

When you blink your eyes open, Cas is staring at you, awed and mischievous.

“You’re so fun to play with,” he says. “But you came early.”

“ _ Early? _ ” you ask in disbelief.

Cas laughs, pulling his cock out of his boxers and stroking it. He’s not done with you yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me sooooooooo long to write and then it sat in my drive for even longer waiting for an edit, so I'm sorry for the wait for anyone still with me.
> 
> Come join the party on [tumblr](https://fanforfanatic.tumblr.com/)!


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